@caroline-bishop
Deeply exhaling, his breath formed a little cloud of condensation as it mixed with the cold November air. The chill that clung to him was quite the contrast from last night; or from what he was told had happened. He, himself, didn't remember much other than waking up in that hospital bed and just knowing he had to get out. The WHISPER, however, would haunt every other thought-- a hazy memory begging to be brought to light and to be paid attention to. He wouldn't; he'd bury it down under any and everything just as he did with most, if not all, of his problems.
The Bishop property approached slowly but surely, holding a very vague sense of familiarity; he'd only actually visited Caroline outside of school a handful of times-- around the time Caleb had gone missing-- and that felt like ages ago, but he could still place which window led to her room and arched his neck to see if he could see any form of life within. Waiting a moment or two, he debated abandoning ship, his attention flickering between the saran-wrapped plate of cookies in his hand to the window. They were store bought-- no one deserved Jasper's awful cooking-- yet he still emptied them from the plastic container and at least tried to make them seem homemade. Was this the proper way to thank someone for ‘staying with your unconscious body’?? This was silly, wasn't it?
Instead of turning back, as he wanted to do, his need to make sure she was okay outweighed any discomfort he could've ever felt. With one final deep breath to steady his assurance, he moved forward and tentatively knocked on the front door.
