I waited, my heart breaking, for him to answer. For a moment, he stared at me blankly, and then his face contorted into furious anger, colored by pain. “Is this funny to you?” He yelled at me, standing up, “What the hell!”
“No,” I’d expected anger and disbelief, but it still hurt. The word came out half-strangled. A sob. “It’s true. She’s in a Coma.”
“She’s dead!” he screeched, grabbing my arm and wrenching me upright, “Do you hear me?! She’s dead, Paige! I went to the funeral! I saw her coffin be laid into the ground! I fucking cried! Everyone did! I’ve spent the last 8 months trying to recover from it!”
I sobbed, shaking my head. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “She’s dead!!!”
He let go of me and I dropped onto the floor, sobbing. He stomped to the door. I knew I only had a few seconds to find the right words to say, words that would make him stay. “He thought it would be better this way!” I shouted through my tears, praying curiosity would be enough to sway him.