❝ –– perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. and when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. and suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.
her eyes looked at her mentor, her friend, her- well whatever else she was. she would not let her die. she looked so broken, mangled beyond repair. like a puzzle with missing pieces. cristina seemed to lose all the breathe in her body as hunt pushed her out of the room. interns cringed as her voice pierced the air.
‘SOMEBODY PAGE SHEPARD! NOW.’
It’d only taken a second; a second for Teddy to surrender herself to sleep, wheels finding a lesser purchase on the asphalt. No one had looked out for her this fated night, and one slip was all it took for all hell to come and find her.
“Leave me,” she whispered, eyes faltering. “I
don’t want this life anymore.” And from a
weaker part of her mind that was calling to
her, she swore she could hear Cristina’s
voice.”
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