I crack my eyes open feeling groggy, but not sore. I turn my head and see Randall asleep in a chair next to my bed, his bare feet propped up on the mattress next to me. Except this isn’t my bed, this isn’t our hospital wing… we barely even have one. There’s an IV still hooked to my arm but now there’s something clipped on my finger and stuff stuck to my chest that’s connected to a monitor on my opposite side.
“Randall,” I say softly, but my throat is dry and barely any sound comes out. I try to stand, but there are so many cords so I pull the thing off my finger and try my best to sit up. Suddenly, an alarm goes off and Randall quickly sits up, hands on me immediately.
“Hey, hold on,” he says softly, pulling me back. “Just lay down. It’s alright. I’m here.”
I try to speak again,
