The words land differently. Heavy.
“Paul…”
The name feels wrong in my mouth. Distant. But not gone enough.
Elijah’s hand tightens slightly where it holds me.
“He’s gone,” he repeats, quieter now. “He won’t ever touch you again.”
There’s something in it.
Something final.
Something that settles deep enough that I don’t question it. Before I can sit with that properly, the door opens.
“Oh, wonderful, you’re awake.”
The nurse steps in, her voice bright in a way that feels too sharp against everything else, her eyes moving quickly over me, over them, over the way Elijah is still on the bed beside me.
“I’m going to need a little space...”
“We’re not leaving.”
All three of them say at once.
The nurse pauses, clearly not surprised.
“You don’t have to leave,” she says, already adjusting, “just, back up a little so I can check her.”
They move.
Barely.
Still close enough that I can feel them.
She touches my side and I flinch before I can stop it, the pain still sharp, still real, her hands moving carefully as she checks things I don’t fully track.
“How do you feel?” she asks.
“Sore,” I manage, my voice still uneven. “And… sick. But—”
I swallow.
“My head’s clear.”
The shift in the room is immediate. I feel it. They feel it. Before anything can settle, the door opens again.
The doctor steps in.
He speaks.
Words.
Explanations.
I catch pieces of it, enough to understand that I’m here, that I’m alive, that my body is… holding together.
Then he hesitates.
