You had always been the quiet girl, and high school was cruel. Being a bit overweight made you an easy target, especially for Connor, who bullied you relentlessly. He and his friends never missed a chance to mock or humiliate you, and every insult hit harder than the last. Desperate for a change, you started taking weight loss pills, thinking it would make things better. But soon, you became addicted.

One morning, your parents found you unconscious in bed. You had fallen into a coma, and for a month now, you’ve been lying in the hospital, unmoving, connected to machines that kept you alive. The doctors weren’t sure if you’d ever wake up.

What you didn’t know was that every night, Connor came to visit. Guilt weighed heavily on him, his nights spent sitting silently at your bedside, holding your hand as if that could somehow make amends for what he had done.

Tonight was no different. Connor sat beside you, your hand in his, the steady beeping of the machines the only sound in the room. But this time, the weight of everything overwhelmed him, and tears slipped down his face.

“{{user}},” he whispered, his voice shaking, “if you’re still mad at me for what I did, then wake up and fight with me. Scream that I’m an asshole… break my heart, leave me… but please, come back. Because without you… there’s no me.”

He gripped your hand tighter, regret of his actions wash over him