Two quick points I'd like to make! First of all, only the prologue is in second person / present tense. The rest of the story will be told from third person and past tense. Also, the chapters after the prologue are all much longer (ranging 2700-4000 words in length).
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"I'm sorry sir; he didn't make it."
At first the words didn't make sense – the doctor could've been speaking gibberish for all you cared. Besides, you don't think you would've been able to make sense of the words through the roaring in your ears, no matter what language he had spoken in.
"Son, are you there?" The doctor reaches out and gently taps your shoulder, hoping to elicit a response, any response from you, since you haven't moved in well over a minute.
The touch seems to jar you from your shock, and suddenly everything made sense – and you wish you could go back to your confused numbess.
How… how could this have happened? How? He was healthy, he was strong, he was alive. How can that just be gone?
Hardly aware of your motions, you twist away from the doctor's grasp on your shoulder, and move to stand by the window. Staring out of it, you notice a delicate spider web, glistening with morning's dew. It was a thing of beauty, but fragile beauty at that – the slightest breeze could shake it, and with one wrong move, it could be broken into gossamer strands that would never resemble what it had once been; much like your heart.
You don't that realize you have fallen to your knees until gentle hands help you up, and the spicy scent of cologne fills your senses. Turning slowly, you looked up into that face, those eyes, and feel your tentative grip on calm shatter.
"I'm sorry, oh God, I'm sorry," that voice chants, over and over until you just want the noise to stop, want the pain to stop, need it to stop – all of it.
You bury your face in his shoulder, hoping to drown out the pain of your loss in his polyester sweater. You don't recognize the sobs wracking your entire body; dimly, you wonder why your cheeks are growing wet.
Only after you have sobbed yourself out do you allow yourself to truly look into those eyes, those blue, blue eyes, and understand the compassion behind the words that this man, this beautiful, perfect man, is saying.
"Luke, I'm so sorry… about Ethan."
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