In a white-painted room with fluorescent lighting, beige walls, and linoleum floors, the air was heavy with the smell of disinfectant and the soft beeping of machines. A young boy with blonde hair, dressed in a blue gown, lay motionless on the bed with an oxygen tube in his nose to assist with breathing.
"I caused this. We should have all waited outside," Olive lamented, tears streaming down her face as she sat by Lucas's bedside. "You have to wake up, Lucas. It's been over a week. Don't you want to know what happened to Mr. Philip? Don't you want to see justice served for that criminal?"
"We're all to blame for Lucas's condition, not just you," Mark added, his face filled with sorrow as he comforted Olive with a hand on her shoulder.
