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Groaning, I tentatively opened my eyes to find a large brass container being held below my face. A pair of rough, tanned hands gripped the sides, holding it steady. Slowly, my eyes followed the muscles of the forearms up to a pair of pleasantly bulging biceps connected to bronze shoulders that seemed to gleam in the muted lighting. Up a thick neck to a square, stubbly jaw to a pair of eyes that beckoned at my memory. They were so familiar and yet I was at a loss as to where I knew them from. Little crinkles in the corner hinted at a friendly nature, but the downward turn of the mouth negated them. I forced myself to sit up and pressed my back against the headboard behind me, gazing up at him as he rose to his full, towering height. I had the sense that I should be afraid, but I couldn’t find any fear within me. He stood there looking down at me, a crease forming between his brows as confusion rose to the surface of his eyes, ‘You doing okay sugar?’ Silently I began to take an. David's mother did not stay all day, but she did come in nearly every day and would read to him for hours at a time. She did this for two reasons. One was because she believed it would help him recover faster, the other was because she couldn't take the unnatural quiet of the room.The stories she'd been reading were not your typical fare for a young adult of 14, but David was fairly atypical. He loved the older stories, the myths, legends, and tall tales that many his age ignored and really avoided. So, it would come as no surprise that Brenda brought such stories as Gulliver's Travels, Moby-Dick, or even One Thousand and One Nights, which she'd just finished reading the final chapter of the night before. He seemed to have responded at one point, but it was short lived; nothing more came of it. She'd read him about ten chapters at a time. He'd been in coma for nearly half a year now and his 15th birthday was coming up fast. She prayed that he would recover in time for that, but she.
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