Page 30 of Broken Oath

Beep.

Beep.

The sound seemed impossibly far away.

His mouth was dry. His tongue tasted like metal. When he tried to lift his hand, pain slammed through his shoulder and sent his arm crashing back onto the mattress.

Mattress.

A bed.

The realization drifted through the fog.

Another breath.

Another stab of pain.

The machine continued beeping.

Steady.

Patient.

Alive.

Hospital.

The word surfaced slowly.

His eyelids felt glued shut, but he forced them open.

Light stabbed through his skull.

White ceiling.

White walls.

Sunlight spilling through a narrow window.

Metal rails surrounding the bed.

A monitor tracing green lines beside him.

The sharp smell of antiseptic burned his nose.

Rook blinked.

The room tilted.

Settled.

Then tilted again.

Something wasn’t right.

His body knew before his mind did.

A crushing weight pressed against his chest.