Page 116 of Wreckage

I shoved the blankets aside and stumbled out of bed, my legs weak, shaking violently, and my vision swimming. I was like a newborn deer as I swayed and stumbled. My knee screamed at me, and I cried out at the burst of pain.

I barely took two steps before the door opened abruptly, and my dad walked in.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat, my hands trembling at my sides.

“D-Dad?”

The second the word left my lips, a sob tore from my chest, my knees nearly buckling.

He moved to me immediately, grabbing my shoulders, steadying me, pulling me into the tightest embrace I had ever felt.

I collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest, my body shaking violently.

“Dad,” I choked out, gripping his shirt, clinging to him like a child.

He held me tighter, his voice rough, shaking with emotion as he clung to me as much as I clung to him.

“God, Troy,” he whispered. “I thought I lost you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my fingers digging into his shirt, my heart breaking under the weight of everything I had carried. Everything fucking awful sin I’d committed.

“I love you,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

My dad shuddered, his silent tears falling, and when he spoke again, his voice cracked.

“I love you too, son. And I’m so damn proud of you. You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. Do you hear me?” His voice cracked with his words. “Nothing.”

I let out another sob, my chest aching, my mind still spinning, but then—everything came rushing back.

Adrian.

Elena.

The wreckage.

The last thing I remembered—falling to my knees in the snow, whispering their names, begging God to save them.

I pulled back abruptly, my hands shaking, my voice hoarse and frantic.

“Dad,” I gasped. “Adrian and Elena—they’re alive. They’re waiting for me. I have to?—”

“Troy.”

His hands tightened on my arms, grounding me, but I was spiraling too fast.

“What day is it?” I demanded.

“Troy, calm down?—”

“No!” My voice broke, my body trembling. “You don’t understand! They’re starving! They need me! We have to go! F-Five days. Adrian was going to take the pills in five days so they wouldn’t suffer. Dad, please?—”

The nurses rushed in, moving toward me cautiously, their voices gentle but urgent.

I fought them, trying to shove away the hands, pressing me back down, trying to get back up as they put me in my bed.

“Please,” I choked, turning to my dad, my vision swimming. “Please, Dad. You have to listen to me.”

His expression cracked, pain and heartbreak flashing across his face. He shushed me gently, squeezing my shoulders like he used to do when I was crying after falling off my bike.

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