Summer hadn’t just cared for me. She wasn’t simply my nurse. She’d become my very lifeline. She’d drawn the line in the sand and dared death to cross it, screaming at the top of her lungs, “If you want him, it will be over my dead body!” She was then and is now my defender. The lone figure who stared defiantly into the hurricane and sheltered me. Summer’s soot-stained shield was grooved with scars meant for me.
