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and me usually broke out, and most of the time my dad would pick a fight with his older brother when one would bet the other he couldn't do something.
    It was always off the wall shit, too, like, "I bet you can't jump off the roof and land it," as though that was something two fifty-year-old men should be doing.
    My mother, the soft spoken woman that she was, took it all in good humor and entertained. Being a professional caterer, parties were her thing, and drama was part of the game. Wendy, the nurse, who now had Leo hanging off her arm, led me to the third floor where the ICU was and pointed to the door. After she left, I opened the door to see Ami lying in bed, looking much the same as yesterday. Wendy gestured to the room. "Talk to her. She has no one."
    I swallowed, trying to nod, but instead I shook my head and turned to the door. The churning in my gut, the fog in my head, the uncontrolled beating of my heart had returned as did the images.
    She looked worse today, as if the real trauma was making itself known. The blood had been cleaned from her hands and face now, but dark bruises were scattered across any skin that was showing and were outlined by bright red splotches. Everywhere I looked her skin was colored.
    Immediately, my mind went to what she had to have gone through. The beating, the force of his hits to do this damage, it was repulsive. It was one thing to hear about someone being raped or beaten, but to see it—see the aftermath and see the person struggling for their life—that was different. It made the reality alive. It happened so often most didn't blink an eye. I knew this sort of shit happened, and I didn't think it was right, but I also never gave it much thought. Now, it was all I could think about.
    This girl was only a few years older than my fifteen-year-old sister. What if this happened to her?
    My hands clenched at the thought.
    I was pissed. I wanted to find the guy and kill him. I wanted him right here in this room so he could to see the damage he did. I wanted him to beg for his repentance and bleed right along with her.
    Taking a seat before I fell over, I sat beside her and automatically reached for her hand that rested on top of the blanket. Gently, careful of the IV, I held it in mine. Her hand was so tiny it made mine look huge. Slowly, I lifted my head to her face. The chest tube was taped to the right side of her mouth, her lips swollen. My eyes were drawn to the large cut above her eye. She still had that was the thick white bandage around her head.
    I looked away again, an angry growl emitting from me as I tried to not punch the fucking wall.
    What the hell? I thought to myself. Why was I having such strong feelings about this?
    I could feel the anger course through me in waves. One minute I would be fine, but the next, I wasn't, and my face would get hot, and I wanted to find the guy.
    Shifting back and forth in the chair from nerves, I mumbled, "Hang in there, Ami." My thumb stroked her hand once before standing. While I intended on leaving, I couldn't. I sat back down until Wendy came back three hours later and told me the doctors would be making rounds soon and that I should leave. So I did, but not without one last glance, one I shouldn't have taken because it was a memory I would never forget.
    When I got back to the waiting room, I couldn't leave. I just stood there watching the snow fall in the same spot I had when I started the day. Again, I thought about what would happen if she didn't make it?
    "Hey, man." Leo came to stand beside me, his phone in hand, typing out a message. "Wanna get some food. It's Christmas."
    Leo caught onto the look on my face and smiled. "Come on, head case. Maybe the cafeteria is open."
    "I thought you were with Wendy?" I asked when we walked toward the elevators.
    Leo looked over at me, his attention diverted from his phone as he ran a hand over his smirk. "I was. You were in her room for like an hour. I didn't need that long with Wendy. You