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Minutes seemed like hours as Trent sat in the waiting room, praying that Bree would be all right, that he’d get an update soon, that her parents, who were on their way now, would arrive safe and sound. He’d had to tell them what had happened, even though it was difficult to articulate. It would take them hours to make the drive. With any luck, Bree would be just fine by the time they arrived.
It had only been about an hour since he’d moved to the waiting room, but it felt like days. The same nurse who had brought him here was headed toward him. Trent
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Bree’s eyes were glued on the door as she impatiently waited for Trent’s arrival. Since she’d woken up, they’d transferred her out of the ICU and given her a larger, private room, which she was thankful for because the intensive care units were so small and scary. She wasn’t sure how long she’d have to stay in the hospital, but if she was going to be there, she wanted it to be with her family in such a way that they would be comfortable. This new room had a couch and a few cozy chairs, as well as a wide window she could see out of from her bed. It was a hundred times better than her ICU room, but until Trent got there, none of that would matter.
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The strings felt odd in her hand. The familiar feel of them, like an extension of herself as her fingers glided along them, was gone, replaced with numbness, a constant dull ache, and the occasional sharp pain that radiated from a few inches below her elbow all the way to the tips of her fingers. Determined to get her fingers in the right position to play a C chord, one of the easiest, Bree Matthews gritted her teeth and tried again. This time, her first finger screamed at her while her second finger may as well have been detached from her body. It just wasn’t working.Frustrated, Bree let out a sigh and set her guitar down on the floor next to her, it’s neck resting
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