Sunlight streamed through the half-open blinds, casting lines across the small hospital room. The scent of antiseptic lingered, faintly dulled by the sweet crispness of a freshly sliced apple.
Ethan sat upright on the hospital bed, the blanket folded neatly at his waist. In one hand, he held a peeled slice of apple slowly chewing, lost in thought but with eyes focused.
Across from him, seated in a plastic visitor's chair, Lucas Graves leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His jersey had been replaced with a clean hoodie, but exhaustion still clung to his posture. He looked at Ethan, a crooked smile playing on his lips, though his voice carried weight.
"Elijah was a monster..."
Ethan paused mid-bite, glancing at Lucas.
"He calculated my every step," Lucas continued, eyes narrowed as if still seeing the court in his mind. "Like he was reading me the whole time. Calm, silent, but devastating. He was just like you, Ethan…"
He looked up then, eyes locking with Ethan's.
