Page 117 of Wreckage

“Troy, it’s OK,” he whispered. “We found them.”

My lungs stopped working. My breath shuddered as I stared at him, my entire world a whirlwind of emotion.

“Adrian is recovering down the hall,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion.

I let out a sharp, gasping breath, my knees nearly giving out.

Adrian.

He was alive.

I clawed at my dad’s shirt, desperate to know about Elena.

“Elena,” I rasped. “Where’s Elena?”

My dad hesitated, and I saw it.

I saw the wince, the flicker of something awful behind his eyes. A truth he wasn’t ready to reveal.

Please, Elena. Please…

I lunged forward, grabbing him, shaking him as much as my weak body would allow.

“Where is she?” I cried.

His throat worked, his hands gripped my arms, and his voice was careful and quiet.

“She’s alive,” he murmured. “But she needs to rest. She’s very sick right now.”

It wasn’t enough.

I tried to get up again, tried to push past the hands holding me down, my body screaming in protest, my knee nearly giving out beneath me.

“I need to see her!” I shouted, my voice cracking, my breathing heaving. “She needs to know I love her. That I’m sorry.”

The nurses rushed toward me, trying to push me back into bed, but I fought them, fought them like my life depended on it.

Tears streamed down my face, my voice breaking as I choked out the truth that had been branded into my soul for weeks.

“I love her,” I gasped, gripping my dad’s arms, sobbing so hard my entire body shook. “Dad, I love her. I promised her I’d always come back.”

My dad’s face broke completely, his tears falling, his voice thick with emotion.

“I know, son,” he whispered. “She’s here. She needs to recover. It’s going to take some time.”

I collapsed against him, my body drained. The fatigue was so unreal. My dad gave a nod to a nurse, and I felt the familiar poke of a needle and then an IV being put in. I exhaled, letting it happen.

The nurse pushed a drug into my IV. It made the world seem hollow and cold.

I fought it. I fought it with everything I had.

But my dad’s hand was in mine, his voice low as he spoke.

“She’s alive,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against mine. “Rest, Troy. You need to rest so you can get better. She needs you to get better."

I sucked in a shaky breath, my eyes slipping closed.

“OK. F-For Elena.”

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