Recovery (Almost)

Vicky grasped Adrien’s face, causing him to gasp for air again.

“Careful, miss,” the doctor chuckled. “He just returned from nearly a half-hour of death.”

Vicky paid no attention and smothered Adrien, tears running down her face. “I’m sorry I hated you and I know you really didn’t kill my mom—our mom and I’m sorry I really really hated you and…”

Adrien cut her short. “Vicky?” he croaked, voice cracked from disuse. “Why is it so dark?”

Greg looked over suddenly and the doctor said, “Open your eyes,” while looking at some files over at a table.

“They are open.” Adrien blinked, and a cold, numb fear encased him.

The doctor turned around suddenly and stared into Adrien’s eyes as Greg and Vicky practiced pronouncing their worry lines yet again.

“Oh, my,” the doctor breathed as his hands held open Adrien’s eyelids. A milky, faded blue had replaced the deep, rich brown Adrien’s eyes used to be. “Oh, no.”

“What’s wrong?” whispered Adrien, gazing sightlessly through the ceiling.

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