SARAH Walking into the hospital room, I was immediately hit by the sterile smell of antiseptic, mixed with the faint scent of something metallic, maybe blood. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly, casting a harsh, white glow on everything. My eyes darted around the room, taking in the scene like I was moving in slow motion.And then I saw him.Marco was lying in the hospital bed, his body nearly obscured by the mass of wires, tubes, and machines surrounding him. An IV drip was hooked into his arm, delivering what I assumed was pain medication, while another tube fed oxygen through his nose. Bandages were wrapped tightly around his chest, where I knew the bullet had hit, and a heart monitor beeped steadily at his side, each sound reminding me that he was still alive—barely. His skin was pale, almost ghostly, and the sight of him like this made my stomach twist painfully.It felt like the ground beneath me was giving way. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The tears came befo
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