She hesitated, eyes lingering on me the way people look at something fragile they don’t quite understand, then nodded slowly, as if she’d decided I wasn’t going to attack her—or collapse—if she turned her back. She picked up the medicine… or whatever they had wanted me to drink, and left the room quietly.
The door clicked shut.
I exhaled through my nose and waited a few seconds longer, listening. No footsteps. No voices close by.
I pushed myself upright.
Pain flared immediately—sharp, warning—but it wasn’t the blinding agony from earlier. It was duller now, tighter, like my body reminding me it was still healing. I clenched my jaw and breathed through it.
Slowly, carefully, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. My feet touched the floor, bare against cool wood. I stood, testing my
