A NEW IDENTITY

KAVEESHA'S POV

The morning light filtered through the hospital blinds, casting soft rays across Whitney's bandaged face. She was still asleep, but the slow rise and fall of her chest gave me a bit of comfort. The swelling had gone down some, though the bruising around her eyes and cheeks made her look fragile. I had stayed by her side the entire night, barely closing my eyes. I did not want her to wake up alone, and, honestly, I did not trust myself to leave.

I stood and stretched, my back aching from sitting in that stiff chair for hours. Glancing at the clock, I realized it was already late morning. Whitney had been in here long enough. I needed to speak to the doctor about taking her home. I knew she was not fully healed, but I did not want her to stay in this sterile, depressing place any longer. She needed to be somewhere safe, somewhere familiar—somewhere that was not this hospital.