Another shove.
Then heat.
Air is forced into me.
It tears down my throat like fire. My airway spasms violently. My body bucks without permission, rejecting it.
My sense of taste slams back all at once.
Chlorine. Metal. Blood.
I cough, and water erupts from my mouth and nose in choking bursts. It splashes against my lips, my chin, the floor beside my head. My throat feels shredded raw.
My ears ring, then clear in fragments. I hear my own coughing. I hear someone swearing under their breath. I hear water lapping softly somewhere nearby.
The pool.
Memory flickers. Blue light. Hands in my hair.
My sense of smell follows. Chlorine. Sweat. Damp fabric. The faint, metallic tang of blood.
Another breath shoves its way in, this time on its own.
It hurts worse than the first.
My lungs drag in air unevenly, like they don’t trust it yet. Each inhale stutters. Each exhale trembles.
My fingers twitch against the tile. Sensation creeps back into them in painful pins and needles. My legs feel heavy and distant, but they are there. My skin feels tight and cold, soaked fabric clinging to me.
Sight comes last.
Light bleeds in through half-opened eyes. Fluorescent panels above me fracture into halos. The world tilts. Shapes move at the edge of my vision.
A face leans over me.
“Good,” the voice says again, closer now, shaking. “Good. Stay with me.”
My heart slams hard enough to make my chest ache.
Then the memory hits fully.
Water filling my mouth. My lungs burning. Kristie’s voice on the screen.
My stomach clenches violently. My hand jerks toward my abdomen.
Air scrapes in again.
Miles is kneeling beside me. His hands tremble where they hover near my chest. His face is pale, a bandage wrapped tight over one eye. He looks like he might fall apart if I stop breathing again.
I cough harder. My chest aches from the inside out, every breath shallow and painful, like my lungs are bruised. My head pounds viciously, pressure building until it feels like it might split open.
“Brooke,” Miles whispers. “Brooke. You’re okay. You’re breathing.”
I am, but barely.
Everything feels wrong, heavy and delayed. My limbs refuse to respond the way they should. My vision swims, edges blurring in and out like a screen about to go dark.
Then hands grab Miles and rip him away. Guards haul me by my arms. My body feels like deadweight, useless and dragging, while my mind floats somewhere above it, watching without permission.
