June 18
Dear Stevie,
I don’t know if this journal is going to make me feel any better, but I have to talk to someone and the only person I can talk to is you, even if you can’t hear me.
I just got back from the hospital. It’s been six days since the accident and they still have you in an induced coma.
I met your parents. It was weird. It is weird.
That they know I even exist at all. But even more that they don’t know that you’re everything to me.
Your mom seems really nice. I see why it’d be hard to think about letting her go.
Despite everything, I can tell she really loves you.
Sometimes when they both leave, I sneak into your room for a couple of minutes to hold your hand. I know you’d probably give me shit for being too risky, but you don’t know what it’s like to be here with you… without you.
I so wish it was me in that bed, because it should be. This is all my fault. You didn’t want to do it. You told me you didn’t want to do it. I am so fucking sorry. I’m sorry, Stevie. Please wake up.
I love you,
Nora