Dear Lily,

The doctors just came in and told me what they'd found out about you. I know you probably already know this, since it happened to you, but I need to talk about it anyway.

They told me that they'd originally thought that someone had hit you with their car and left you there, but now they think you were beaten to within an inch of your life, and you ended up where you did because you walked there and passed out. The theory makes sense, I guess. You'd gone to check on your father after hearing about the house fire. It serves the bastard right, I guess. It was his alcohol bottles that kept the fire going, and whoever called the ambulance found you between his slum of a house and my parents' place. You were so close to making it home, too. My mom called me because the person who found you told her that you'd asked them to call her and explain what happened. I understand why you didn't call me; you probably thought I was sleeping. You were right. I was.

But regardless of if I was asleep or not, you were still unconscious in a ditch, and someone else had to find you. I'm so sorry I didn't come with you. I should've, but I didn't. You said you wanted to handle it alone, you were still unconscious in a ditch, and someone else had to find you. I'm so sorry I didn't come with you. I should've, but I didn't. You said you wanted to handle it alone, and since I knew you were strong, I let you. I'm so sorry I let you.

I'm sorry, Lily, so, so sorry. . . I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . .

I put down my pencil after scrawling the words, 'I'm sorry,' all down the page, viciously scrubbing away the tears that were cascading down my face. I reached over and took Dandelion's hand, clenching it as tightly as I could, as if I could wake her up by just squeezing her hand hard enough. I looked at her fingers, finding freckles dotting her knuckles that I'd never seen before. I let myself wonder how I'd never noticed them through all the mornings I've laid in bed and just looked at her, trying to memorize every single feature.

It took me a little while for me to realize that the terrified sobbing I was hearing was coming from my own mouth, and the tears dripping onto the legs of my pants were coming from my eyes. My phone pinged, letting me know that Mom had texted me.

Which room?

I unlocked the phone slowly, smiling at the picture of me and Dandelion leaning against the hood of the truck, arms crossed with huge smiles. She'd stolen my beanie, and my dark brown hair was on full display, unkempt and wild like Dandelion's. We were beaming with pride, and with good reason too; we had just been accepted into college and gone out to dinner to celebrate.

I texted Mom back, telling her the room number.

A few minutes later, while I was clutching Dandelion's hand and sobbing I heard a light knock on the door and the handle turned. The door opened, and I heard footsteps approaching. There were arms around me, and I tore my hand away from my Dandelion's to hug my mother and sob like a child into her chest. Her fingers wove through my hair, and she rocked me back and forth as I cried.

I hadn't cried this much since my grandfather died, and Mom had done the same thing then. She was humming something, Brahms's Lullaby, I think, rocking me and rubbing my back. I reached back with one arm and took Lily's hand, and even though her fingers were cold and almost lifeless, the faint pulse was incredibly comforting.

Then Dad was there, with his arms around me and Mom. I turned my head to look at Dandelion, and I could have sworn I saw the ghost of a smile on her face. It was almost like she was happy, knowing that there were people here to look after me when she couldn't. I think that's something that would make her happy: knowing the people she loves are taken care of.

"I love you" I whispered, squeezing her hand. I knew she didn't actually answer, but I thought I could hear the echo of her voice from all the times I'd heard it in the back of my mind.

I love you too.