KYLIE'S TREATMENT
I woke up in an unfamiliar bed, its soft sheets a surprising contrast to the deep ache that pulsed through every inch of me. My head felt thick, as if stuffed with cotton, and each breath seemed to move through a fog of lingering pain. Blinking through the haze, my gaze drifted to the side, and I found Ava lying there, curled up and fast asleep. Light was spilling into the room, hinting that several hours had passed since the chaos of last night.
Ava had a dark bruise swelling across her forehead, a stark reminder of the violence we’d both endured. But I was sure I looked worse. Attempting to sit up, I was rewarded with a fierce, tearing pain in my shoulder, a reminder of the bullet that had torn into my flesh. Looking down, I saw my upper arm and shoulder neatly wrapp
