Third-Person Perspective

Flint stood in the doorway of the room. He'd been there for several minutes. Just watching.

Lola lay in the hospital bed. Unconscious. Bandages covered half her face. Her arm was wrapped in gauze. An IV dripped into her other arm.

She looked small. Fragile. Nothing like the girl he'd grown up with. Flint stepped inside. Walked quietly to the bed. His chest felt tight.

This was his fault if he'd been there. If he'd protected her. Amy never would have gotten close. He ...