Avery never had it easy. Before her dad left 6 months ago, her life had been a wreck. After his disappearance, she's been trying to find a way to mend the pieces that were taken along with her dad. Will she find herself again or will she need some h...
I wake up the next day and look down, seeing Adam fell asleep in the chair.
Late last night, a nurse came in and took the tube out of my mouth. She said it would be sore for a little but it should go away soon.
I try to sit up and wince, pulling my gown up to see an incision running from one hip to the other.
I feel tears fill my eyes as I lay my head back down. Yet another scar I got from him.
I feel Adam move, meaning he's awake.
I quickly close my eyes to try and act as if I'm asleep. "I know your awake," he whispers as he wipes under my eyes. I must have been crying.
"What's wrong sweetheart?" He asks as he sits down in the bed next to me. I just shake my head, not wanting to bring him more into this then he already is.
"You can tell me, you know. I'm not gonna tell it to the world. I am a good secret keeper," he says as I hear the smirk in his voice.
I open one eye to see him looking at me. "I'm sure you are such a good secret keeper," I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "Hey! I'll have you know that I've kept a secret so long, I don't even remember what it is." He states. "Is that such a good thing?" I say as I laugh.
I wince as I can feel the cut in my stomach tighten as I laugh. "Dammit," I mutter before I rise on my elbows to try and catch my breath.
"I fucking hate this! Why the hell do I have to stay in this damn bed!" I yell as I try to stand up. I manage to get my legs over the bed before I yell out in pain, falling to the floor.
I sit on the floor on my hands and knees as I sob, finally realizing that this is really a reality.
I feel gentle hands wrap under me and lay me on the bed, with him following behind. I curl to his chest as I continue to cry into his shirt.
He begins to quietly sing in my ear to calm me down.
We lay there, without saying a word for quite some time before I speak up. "Why do you do that?" "Do what," he asks quietly. "Why do you sing to me when I'm panicked?" I question as I look up at him through my droopy eyes.
"I don't know," he says as he pulls me gently closer to him. "My mom would do it to me when I was younger. No matter what it was, It always helped me," he states.
"Mmm," I hum as I feel my eyes close. "Can you sing to me now?" I ask, barely over a whisper as I feel my body relax into his.
He starts to sing once again, as his hand rests on my back, rubbing patterns until I dose off into a peaceful sleep.
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