The room was dark; Sanchez sat at Amy's bedside through the night.
She stirred briefly at about two in the morning. When she cried out, Julio held her hand tightly and whispered softly to comfort her.
He should have been the one. He should have stopped it.
Flashbacks flickered through his mind like it was yesterday.
A dinner date with his wife.
Walking home.
Three men.
He couldn't stop them either.
Julio closed his eyes and wished the dark memories away. He didn't let go of Amy's hand. He held it tight afraid she might disappear like his wife. As the morning light crept in Amy woke and looked up into his bleary, dark eyes. She gave him a slight smile as much as she could with her bruised and battered lips.
He'd kiss them later when she was healed; he'd already decided.
'Til then he touched her cheek and told her how the case was going, and he felt the weight he'd been carrying for so long, finally lift
ever
so
slightly.