I try to open my eyes.
They don’t cooperate.
Light flashes.
Too bright.
Too much.
“Vest trauma—possible internal bleeding,” someone says.
“Let’s move!”
Everything is motion again.
Fast.
Controlled chaos.
Familiar.
But this time—
I’m not the one running it.
I’m the one on the table.
Hate that.
A lot.
“…he stayed up too long,” another voice says.
Yeah.
No kidding.
“Where’s Russ?” someone asks.
Footsteps.
Fast.
Approaching.
Then—
There it is.
That presence.
Even before I hear him.
“What happened?”
Russ.
Sharp.
