Bruce.

I could not let go of her hand. My fingers wrapped around hers, feeling how cold her skin had become, how fragile she felt in my grip. The monitors beeped steadily beside us, tracking heartbeats and oxygen levels and a dozen other things the doctors had explained but I could not remember. All I knew was that each beep meant she was still here. Still alive. Still fighting. Beverly lay unconscious in the hospital bed, her face pale against the white sheets, her breathing shallow but ...