“Oh, Runner.” O’Brien’s hands were agonising in their tenderness. Featherlight, barely real, they slid under my arms and lifted me to my feet. Despite avoiding my back and shoulders almost entirely, it was too much for my abused flesh.
I flinched.
His hands dropped away immediately, a murmur of dreaded apology shaping his lips. “Give me a minute. I need to get you a first-aid kit, okay?”
I nodded, unable to form any words to speak. My head, light and empty, felt like it existed somewhere else entirely. Not on my body, for sure. Somewhere far away from me. From the pervading darkness. I didn’t dare move, save to breathe whilst he was gone. If I thought too hard about the shadows painting the walls or behind the curtains of the bed, I would crumble.
Or I really would throw myself ove
