It's been two weeks since the bloody day. Daisy stood outside the ICU room, her hands pressed lightly against the cold glass. Her eyes lingered on the still figure lying on the bed, wires and machines surrounding him. The window between them felt thicker than it was, as if it were more than glass that kept her from reaching him.
Her breath fogged the pane as she whispered his name, voice breaking. "Theo…"
Inside, his chest rose and fell with the rhythm of the ventilator, each sound a reminder that his life was being borrowed, held together by machines.
Every day she came, and every day the same question gnawed at her, 'Would he ever open his eyes again? Would he still be the same Theo if he did?'
She had heard the news of Owen's man surrendering himself at the nearest police station, confessing everything. Yet it brought her no peace. It only proved one thing… her nightmare would never truly end, not as long as her grandfather was still alive, pulling strings from the shadows.
