"We need a chair," Micah said, voice urgent.
Jessica shook her head.
"No," she whispered. "Not a chair."
Because a chair meant sitting.
And sitting meant surrender.
Jessica looked at Paul's face, terrified and pleading.
"Paul," she said quickly, "walk with me. Two steps."
Paul's eyes were wild.
"I can't __"
"Yes you can," Jessica said, voice firm now. "Two steps. That's all."
She guided him __ barely __ toward the intake desk.
Micah stayed on the other side, bracing.
The room felt like it had leaned forward.
The other patients watched without blinking.
Halden watched from behind the plexiglass, still as stone.
Jessica felt the schedule spike again __ like a wave cresting.
Paul took one step.
Then another.
His breathing rasped.
His face went gray.
Jessica's heart pounded
