the art of being empty ➪ e. dolan
"can you sing?" his raspy voice startled me, echoing through the quiet hospital. my fingers crawled across the wall to flip the light switch on, an apparent buzz filling the room.
"no." i replied bluntly, growing annoyed at the boy for staying awake. "go to sleep, your surgery is early."
"i know." he mumbled, his hospital bed creaking as he turned on his back to watch me check the monitor. "thats exactly why i cant sleep."
the room grew quiet once again as i didnt respond.
"can you try to sing?" anger bubbled inside of me as his voice filled the room.
"why?" i snapped, my tone much harsher than i intended. my eyes locked on his dark hazel ones. they were clouded, glazed over in tears that threatened to fall. his tough interior was so close to crumbling in the hospital bed in front of me.
"i want you to sing me to sleep."