e anger I had felt earlier that day seemed so small now, a distant memory, completely insignificant compared to what I had just done. My mind couldn't grasp the reality

I might make everything worse. He had been so frustrating earlier, yes, but this was beyond anything I had

ead. I was alone with him, and I had no idea what to do. My stomach churned as I tried-desperately-to lift him, but he w

e the panic returned. He looked so fragile, so vulnerable, and I felt a wave of guilt so heavy it almost drowned me. He raise

'm fine. Plea

s. I wanted to believe him, but everything inside me screamed that he wasn't fine. He couldn't

acked, thick with emotion, as I tried to reassure him-and myself-that everyt

... it'll pass," he murmured, tryin

n I saw you lying there lifeless, I was s

letting him go, to sit in his house, alone, after what I had done-it fe

t me to worry. But I couldn't help it. I was terrified. I had hurt him. I had n

e, and his movements were slow, weak. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest, and I tried to hide how mu

nding me of how quickly things had gone wrong. How reckless I had been. The guilt was unbear

night, and with the darkness closing in, I found myself wanting to break the silence

you even doing out here?" My voice was harsh, more accusing than I meant it to be. B

ng away, and I couldn't help but feel rejected. He should've been angry with me, yelling

eeled him away. Each second felt like an eternity, the weight of what I had done pressing down harder with every breath. I kept pacing, my mind spiraling with guilt, wondering if I had caused more damage tha

n't help calm my nerves. I bombarded him with questions, m

's going to be okay," I stammer

e me. "He's stable, but we need to

n't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. I

leave against medical advice, my heart stopped.

his voice was sharp. "There'

I couldn't let him go. Not aft

o argue, to push, but I saw the determination in his eyes. H

voice small. "But at lea

tightly, I thought my fingers might cramp. Every glance at Amer, pale and broken beside me, made my stomach twist with regret. What had I done? I had wanted to punish him, to get some so

asking me all these questions? If you're going to keep

Okay, I'll stop," I murmured, s

t after everything. I had hurt him, physically, emotional

ase in my chest. As I parked the car, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had made the wrong choice coming here, but what els

ing to make conversation, tho

ely, and I could feel th

iblings?" The words escaped before I could sto

snapped, and I swallowe

ng the moment the words left my mouth. But I couldn't stop

you for hitting me with your car

. Please forgive me; it was an accident," I choked out, my voice trembling. I was desp

ht of my tears somehow made it worse. "It

ition-" I began,

can take ca

ere, and yet I couldn't bring myself to leave. I wanted to do more, help him more, but he didn

exhaustion and panic. My mother wasn't home, and the house felt strangely empty. I knocked on

to let me rest. I had to face what I had done. The acci

ce only added to the pressure building in my chest. He asked questions, offering solutions, but nothing felt like

e, pale and hurt. I couldn't stop thinking about what I had done, and the guilt pressed down harder. I didn't