I've Died a Thousand Times

The first few days were the hardest.

Percy was nervous and could hardly focus on his work because he would worry about Ezra.

Ezra had yet to open his eyes, but he was improving.

The scrapes, bruises, and cuts that littered his skin were healing. His skin gained color and his breaths grew stronger.

When Percy returned to his room he would bring a chair to the side of the bed and read while Ezra continued to sleep.

Sometimes he couldn’t help himself and ran his fingers through Ezra’s hair.

Ezra was beautiful.

Percy would use his eyes to trace the structure of his face. His dark eyebrows, the long eyelashes, his nose, and his lips.

Although Percy could begin to worry less about Ezra’s physical health, he felt uneasy about his mental health and sanity.

He could only imagine the horrors his aunt put Ezra through.