Dear Stranger
This letter is sooner and shorter than all the rest because I'm writing it in the middle of the night and my nurse keeps insisting that I go back to sleep.
What he doesn't seem to understand is that I can't go back to sleep. You see, I woke up to a lot of beeping, except this time it wasn't my monitors going off—it was Lucas's. A herd of nurses and doctors came stampeding in and started yelling at each other. I couldn't see a thing until they wheeled Lucas' bed out, and then I could see the boy's frighteningly pale face, wide, terrified eyes and the way his small body was convulsing.
I tried sleeping, but his face haunts me even in my dreams.
Serena
