GIANNA LYON (First Person's POV)
"Get your hands off me!" Jackson growled, holding a tissue to his nose.
"Doctor Jackson, let us treat your injuries…"
"What do I look like to you? A toddler? I've been a surgeon for 23 years. I can handle myself," he groaned and struggled to get out of the bed, but his hands held him down.
"You have a broken nose, four broken ribs, two stab wounds, and if you don't get those eyes treated, you risk going blind in the next forty-eight hours."
"Shut up," Jackson spat.
Somewhere among the ruckus in the room, where I stood watching the chaos, I felt a pain in my stomach and crouched with a soft moan.
"Gianna? Are you okay?" Cookie ran to me, and I shook my head.
"It's just the stress and my body's telling me to slow down." I sighed and
