3. August 20th
W hoosh.
“You need to leave. The blackmail they have on you both–”
“Grayson, you promised she would be safe with you.”
Whir.
“–my best. I’m sorry.”
Whoosh.
“Your brother–”
“–charges won’t stick.”
“–live video is enough?”
“Reporters–”
Hum.
“Little Lamb, I’m right here. Don’t listen to them argue. Your parents are here. They love you, but they can’t stay. It won’t turn out well.”
Whir.
“Axel! Shut–”
“Our sunflower, what have they done–”
“–more evidence.”
“Go outside! She shouldn’t hear this. She could wake up at any point.”
Whoosh. Whir.
“They’re gone, Sunday. Just focus on getting better. We need you to open your eyes. Please, I can’t do this without you. ”
Whoosh. Whir.
“ It isn’t fair. This isn’t fair! You have me wishing to be back in that god damn fucking cycle! At least then I knew you were going to wake up!”
Whoosh. Whir.
“ Wake up, fucking dammit! The doctors said you should be awake by now, so why aren’t you?!”
Whoosh. Whir.
“Fuck!”
Crash! Bang!
“Axel! Get out of here! Go outside!”
“She’s dying! Darius is in jail! And where is our fucking incubator? Our mother? This isn’t fair!”
Whoosh. Whir.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
“Don’t listen to him, baby girl. You’re going to be right as rain. Just hurry up for us, will you? Please? We’re a mess without you.”
Whoosh. Whir.
A harmonica.