fourteen.

                                    

                                          
The sterile scent of disinfectant permeated the air when the elevator doors opened. The soft ding felt like an unnaturally loud disturbance, its echo lingering as if to mock her hesitation. Harper tightened her grip on her bag, the rough strap digging into her palm, forcing herself to step out onto the fourth floor. Her sneakers squeaked against the polished floor, the sound sharp and out of place, like she didn't belong there. She winced, hoping no one would notice. 
This floor was quieter than the lobby, but not by much. Somewhere down the hallway, a cart rattled, its wheels stuttering in uneven bursts. The sound grated against her nerves, more so than the urgent voices that carried over the PA. Nurses and orderlies moved past her in hurried strides, their clipped voices and quick movements making every little thing here seem urgent and deeply significant – like there was no room for error or hesitation. 
She slowed her steps, instinctively shrinking into herself to avoid getting in anyone's way. Harper replayed the directions the nurse at the front desk had given her, but the words had evaporated the moment she stepped into the elevator. The signs on the walls blurred into a mess of arrows and numbers as she tried to make sense of this labyrinth of life and death. 
It shouldn't be this difficult. 
Her heartbeat quickened with each step, pounding in her ears like a warning she couldn't ignore. She hadn't stopped feeling this way – not since Sam and Demetri texted her to tell her that Miguel was awake. That was good news. Of course, it was. She reminded herself of that with every shaky exhale, knowing she should focus on being relieved. 
And yet...
The guilt Harper carried was heavy and unyielding, pressing down on her chest with every breath. It turned what should've been a moment of celebration into something suffocating. It felt like she was walking to a funeral rather than a reunion.
It had been two months since Miguel's accident, and Harper could still hear it. The sickening, hollow sound his body made as it struck the stairs. It replayed in her mind like the nightmare that it was, sharp and unrelenting. The image of him crumpled on the ground brought on a wave of nausea, the edges of her vision narrowing as the memory took hold. Harper remembered screaming his name, of everything happening in slow motion as Robby kicked Miguel over the second-floor railing. 
She'd gotten in the way that day. 
 The school had turned into a war zone, her friends and Cobra Kai clashing in a storm of chaos and violence. The deafening sound of voices as they shouted over one another while the air crackled with rage and fear, thick enough to choke on. All Harper had wanted was to help – to stop the fight before it spiraled out of control and before anyone got seriously hurt. But instead, she'd been part of the chaos. Harper could still hear it: the shouts as bodies collided and the split-second decisions that had only pushed everything out of control.
If she'd just stayed out of it, if she hadn't.... Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard as she desperately tried to push the thought away. But it clung to her, a cruel reminder that she could have done something – anything – different that day.
And now, here she was, walking through the fluorescent-lit halls to visit someone she'd let down. Her hands shook as she imagined seeing Miguel again, his dark eyes clouded with disappointment or blame. What if he didn't want to see her? What if he hated her as much as she hated herself? 
Harper's legs felt like lead as she passed a series of identical doors, each step forward heavier than the last. The soft murmur of voices and the faint beeping of monitors followed her, seeping through the cracks in the walls like whispers of doubt. Her steps slowed as she reached his room, her heart thundering so loudly she was certain everyone could hear it.