My Unlikely Best Friend

Chapter 66

A/N: Hey guys, here's another chapter for you all. I hope you're still enjoying this book and please don't forget to vote and comment telling me what you thought. I don't bite I promise... I just throw bunnies at people!
Anyway, happy reading!
~Jiana~
           
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                      |A Week Later|

Dawn's POV

The first thing I noticed after I opened my eyes was the light that came through the window, which shined at the side of my face. I then focused on the ceiling. It was dull and blank, not having anything worth remembering, yet, I found myself not being able to look away from it—that would take too much energy on my part, so I continued to lie down on my bed as unmoving as a doll left alone on a dresser. Fatigue plagued my limbs; I was just so tired that moving was on the last thing on my mind, even breathing seemed to be like a chore—I felt as if I was able to remain in this position forever, although, that was until my ears finally acknowledged the continuous sound of someone breathing to the left of me. I almost immediately knew that the person was sleeping due to the way each full breath, the person took, came out evenly.

Who is that?

At first I tried to decipher who the person might be by the breaths they took, unfortunately, their breathing was foreign to my ears. The only thing I was sure of was that whoever was beside me was definitely having a much-needed nap. But then, after about a minute or so of mentally forcing myself to glance at who exactly was in my room, I slowly turned my neck and looked down. My eyes widened when I realized that it was Thomas who was beside me.

What was he doing in my room? Did my mom let him in? I thought my room was off limits.

He was toward the edge of the bed with his head turned to the side, at an angle that allowed me to see his whole face properly. Thomas was resting on his folded arms as if they were his pillow and his hair lightly brushed against the blanket that covered my tired body. I scrutinized his large, light brown curls for a moment more than what I intended because I noticed that it was a bit longer than what I last remembered it being, however, aside from that, I have to admit that the longer my sight lingered on him—watching his sleeping face and hearing his even and weighted breaths—melted my heart. I've never seen him like this before, so to me, this moment was precious. A smile graced my lips when I realized how innocent he looked. He almost resembled the innocence of that of a newborn baby.

I slowly reached out my hand to his head, but my arm shook and felt as if I hadn't used it in weeks, which was odd and almost alarmed me but I just linked it to my horrible tiredness and continued to bury my hand within his hair. It was soft as I ran my fingers through it, twirling it around in every which way and all.

He won't be happy to see what a mess I've done to his hair, I thought to myself and almost laughed, but suddenly, I wondered when I fell asleep.

While I pondered on that thought, it was then when I brought my eyes up to look around, in what I thought was my room, but was stupefied to find out that it wasn't. A slight gasp escaped from between my lips as my mouth hung ajar when I came to realize that I was resting in what looked like to be a hospital room—on a hospital bed instead of the one I had at home. My breathing increased as I examined my surroundings some more, which made my lungs feel heavy and hot like it was being weighed down by freshly boiled rocks. When turning my head, I noticed that my cheek felt like it was being pulled, so with my jittering hand, I felt it and after tracing it I knew that it was a tube that went down my nose. It stuck to my cheek, thanks to some tape. And, of course, I couldn't forget about the classic IV machine that stood tall beside me, pumping clear fluids into my veins, or the smell of hand sanitizer that left the room smelling fresh, or even the sound of the occasional beeping from the machine that just now registered into my brain. Why couldn't I hear it before? What's wrong with me? Why do I feel so. . . weak. . . so slow?