⋆˚࿔  We Were born sick, we heard them say it ⋆˚࿔

The hospital smelled of sterile chemicals and the iron smell of blood. Why must you always be forced back in here every time Rafe gets hurt? He never learned from his mistakes, and you were the one paying for them this time

Rafe had let you use his dirtbike for a few minutes; you wanted to see what it felt like having the wind whipping in your hair, the smell of the tree as you went over the speed limit, but Rafe never mentioned the dangers of riding such a high-speed dirtbike. You had hit a rock at full force, and you went flying over the handlebars, landing on your back on the asphalt.

Everything after that was a blur: Rafe screaming your name, the red and blue lights, the paramedics asking you where it hurt. You couldn’t speak—you couldn’t breathe. You just looked up into the abyss the whole time. Your legs? You couldn’t feel them; maybe it was the trauma from the situation, but you knew it wasn’t.

You had finally gotten put into a hospital room, your neck wrapped in a brace as you continued to stare straight at the ceiling. Rafe came barreling in, spewing off what the doctors told him.

“Get out.” You rasped, stopping Rafe in his tracks, his head jerking towards you at your words, your body aching with pain and anger. You felt anger towards Rafe for not protecting you like he promised when you were kids.

“What?” Rafe said, his eyes wide and his voice shocked, Did he really fuck up this time? Rafe's heart dropped when he realized how serious you were; you wanted him to leave.