Olivia Martins

Caspian hadn’t moved in over an hour.

He lay still in his bed, pale, his skin damp with sweat, and his breaths shallow. The doctor had checked him over already, twice. He said he needed rest. Said his vitals were stabilizing. But none of it calmed the panic curling in my stomach.

I stood at the foot of the bed, arms folded tight across my chest, trying to keep it together. My clothes had clung to me, still damp from the run and everything that followed, so I’d ...