William Shakespeare 's ' The Bed '

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I looked at Lyon laying in the bed. I knew that this was Lyon, because everyone told me so. But the boy before me with the tubes running into his nose, and the translucent skin was not the boy I knew. My Lyon was robust, overweight vibrantly healthy and possessed of a spirit that would cause him to get up from his chair and dance across the room even if he was alone. The boy before me could barely breathe. His body was nearly lost in the sheets of the bed and he didn 't move. He sucked in air through a tube in his throat and the machines pushed the oxygen into him in a rhythmic tempo that was almost irritating. The machines around him hummed and made faint noises that filled the room with an ambient presence. The one closest to him beeped…show more content…
A tear fell from my cheek and struck his chin. Another tear slipped out of his eye and trailed down to the pillow. He looked at me with an intensity that finally told her that yes, this was the boy she knew as her friend; maybe more and I wrapped myself around him, tears flowing freely. I felt the chuffing of a chuckle from his throat and chest. “It takes much more to kill me.” I pulled myself away and looked into his eyes; now listless, dull and faded. I let out a breath and told him everything. From his own condition to the development with the Pentagon. “I am not staying here while you risk everything,” Lyon argued, “I’ll learn how to walk again.” “This has nothing to do with walking or the Pentagon or my own safety. I have to help Konnor and Jemima and everyone at the Rebellion. I am the only person who knows the secrets that the Pentagon has locked away. I am their key. I don’t need anyone else to die.” Lyon’s hand grabs ahold of my arm, “I don’t need you to die.” “They’re not going to kill me.” “How do you know? Is there any way for you to know?” I keep my mouth shut. Lyon’s eyes linger on me and I push his hand away, lifting myself off the bed. “You are going to live, without one leg, but I want to keep it that way. You need to stay here.” My voice began to rise. I began to yell at him. We were fighting. “Why? Why do I need to stay behind when-,” “Because I,” I stop myself and catch my breath. I bring my voice back down and clear my throat, “Because I
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