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17

“We need to take him, Mrs. VanRyan,” a nurse informed me, her voice laced with sympathy.

I leaned as close as I could to him, my voice quivering.

“Fight, my darling. Come back to me. To us. We need you.” My voice caught. “I love you, Richard, and I’m not ready to let you go. You can do this. You can do anything.”

The medical team stepped forward, and I clasped his hand in mine, careful not to press too hard with the cuts and bruises forming on his knuckles. “Please,” I whispered, choking. “Come back to me. I’ll be waiting right here.” I rose on my toes and kissed his cheek, my tears dripping and mingling with the streaks of blood on his face.

They wheeled him out of the room. I followed as long as I could, silently weeping as the doors swung shut in front of me.

“Please,” I prayed. “Oh God, please.”

“Katy.”

I turned to Graham and Laura. They were distraught and pale. Laura held out her arms, and I went to her, sobbing on her shoulder, praying in my head.

“Bring him back to me. No matt
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