Gabriella

The halls of the hospital were quiet in the middle of the night—more accurately, in the early morning hours of Sunday. Within the small chapel, that eerie silence was but another element increasing my apprehension.

I’d made a proclamation upon our arrival to the hospital. The circumstances hadn’t changed. Derek Sinclair was still in surgery. What was changing felt like an out-of-control locomotive.

Within my ears, I heard the ...