The Vanishing Girls Of Willow Creek (Willow Creek, #1)

Chapter Fifteen

I don't care about whose DNA has recombined with whose. When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching, they are your family. - Jim Butcher

The hospital room was suffocatingly quiet, sterile smell of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint beeping of machines and distant voices echoing down the hallway. The steady beeping of machines monitoring Jon's vital signs echoed in my head. I sat in a stiff plastic chair beside his bed, my hands clenched tightly in my lap as I watched him sleep.

Jon's face was pale, his usually tan complexion blue now dulled from loss of blood . The bandages wrapped around his head and arm served as a stark reminder of the brutal attack that had taken place in my own home. Guilt gnawed at me like a hungry beast, knowing that it was my house where he had been ambushed by an unknown assailant.

I glanced at the empty chair beside me, expecting to see Jon's parents rushing in any moment now, muttering half-hearted apologies. They should have been here by now, standing vigil by their son's side as any loving parent would.

Instead, it was my own mother who entered the room, her apron still stained with flour from a long day at our family bakery. The look of concern on her face mirrored my own fears as she rushed to my side, grasping my hand tightly.

"What happened?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I struggled to find the words to explain what had transpired earlier that evening - how Jon had come over to study for our upcoming exams and ended up being attacked by an unknown assailant in my own home. The memory sent shivers down my spine, and I felt a wave of guilt wash over me for not being able to protect him.

"It was my fault."

"Harley, honey," my mom whispered as she placed a hand on my shoulder. "It wasn't your fault."

But it was. If I hadn't insisted on checking out that noise upstairs, if I had just ignored it, Jon wouldn't be lying here now.

I looked up at her with tears in my eyes, feeling overwhelmed by guilt and fear for Jon's safety.

"I should have seen who did this to him," I whispered hoarsely.

"You couldn't have known, Harley," my mom replied softly. "What matters now is that he's safe and getting the care he needs."

Before I could respond, a low groan filled the room, drawing our attention back to Jon as he began to stir from his slumber. My heart leaped into my throat as I watched him slowly open his eyes, confusion clouding his gaze before recognition set in.

"Harley?" he murmured hoarsely, reaching out a trembling hand towards me.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I took hold of his hand gently, relief flooding through me at seeing him awake and aware. In that moment, all that mattered was that he was alive and safe in this hospital bed - everything else could wait until later.

"What happened?"

"We were just going to ask the same thing," a firm voice sounded from the doorway.

Looking over, I noticed Jon's parents had finally decided to show up.

"Look who's finally here," I mumbled to myself.

Apparently not quietly enough as his mother, Milena, asked, "What was that young lady?"

"Nothing," I relented, refusing to indulge in their pettiness. Plus, Jon didn't need the headache on top of the one he was already likely dealing with.

His parents presence only seemed to add tension to the already strained atmosphere in the hospital room.