STEVEN.
The harsh, bright light burned through my eyelids, forcing me to slowly open them.
I turned my head, blinking against the brightness, and found Wilson sitting beside my bed.
My throat felt dry, and my lips were cracked, as if I'd spent days stranded in the sahara desert without a drop of water.
Wilson gave me some water. I took a few slow sips, letting the coolness soothe my parched throat. When he lowered the cup back down, I noticed a sudden change in his expression. He looked at me, his face stern and his eyes serious.
He had already told me everything I needed to know. What I was supposed to say. What had supposedly happened to me?
It was a story we both had to stick to. One wrong detail, one slip of the tongue, and we'd both be screwed.
A moment later, he called the doc
