KNOCKOUT

Chapter 2

I scramble through the sliding door with Isabella directly on my heels. Holden's long shirt reaches my thighs and his too big sweatpants are threatening to crash to the floor with every step I take ⎯ the letter, photograph, and ring clutched tightly in my unsteady hands. People are whirling by me in a flash; all I can hear is my heart pounding loudly in my chest, my stream of consciousness only pulling me toward one thing ⎯ Holden.

The elevator lights up as I click the button and I impatiently wait for the small enclosure to take me to my destination. My foot taps against the bright hospital tile until yet another ding sounds.

Every step I take pulls me closer and closer to him, my heart and soul reaching out for his to lock ourselves together.

I still believe in separate hearts, separate souls, and separate bodies. I don't believe that falling in love causes a fusion between the pair because individuality is a key factor when falling in love to begin with. But just as if we were characters written by Emily Brontë ⎯ as if we were Catherine and Heathcliff ⎯ whatever substance Holden's soul was made from, my own was made from the same.

I'm released from the elevator and I waste no time, forcing my feet and my adrenaline to start me sprinting down the narrow hallway to find the room I'm all too familiar with. I almost pass Holden's door, barely catching myself on the doorframe as I inhale a deep breath. One foot crosses the threshold before a nurse appears in my face; I'd have to crane my neck if I wanted to see her face, but I just push against her, trying to shove my way into the room.

"I'm sorry, miss, but you're not allowed in here." A firm hand wraps around my bicep, stopping me from running to the bed surrounded by physicians. The nurse keeps repeating her sentence as if the louder and more repetitive she gets, the more likely I am to actually listen to her. Her burly body hurts against my small one, but I keep pushing until I finally have moved her body enough to get into the room. The nurse grabs my forearm tightly, halting me from running straight to Holden.

"Miss, did you not hear me?" Isabella stands in the doorframe wide-eyed and I return my focus back to the nurse stopping me from seeing him.

"With all due respect ma'am, I heard you loud and clear. Repeatedly. But the next time your boyfriend wakes up from a coma, enlighten me as to how much you actually care about what the nurse has to say."

I tear my arm from her grip, motioning for Isabella to follow after me as I dash to the side of Holden's bed. At my approach, he turns his head to face me, "Fancy seeing you here, baby."

I feel the familiar flutter ignite in my stomach and I have to restrain myself from touching Holden. They've inserted more needles into his tan skin, connecting his body to a heap of different machinery. I lock eyes with him, clutching the items in my hand tighter than ever. His gaze flits down to my clenched fist and he tries to turn his body more toward me, groaning when the soreness hits him.

"You haven't moved for a week, H. Don't strain yourself."

He shakes off my comment, weakly holding out one of his hands, silently asking for the three possessions. Without hesitation, I gently place them in his hands, swallowing the lump in my throat. I'm vaguely aware of both Amelia and Isabella in the room, but Holden seems to pay them no mind as he studies the things he left for me in his apartment.

"If only I had woken up just an hour earlier..." he mutters.

Holden sets the photograph in his lap, twisting the ring between his pointer finger and thumb with his eyes locked on the folded letter.