NESSA ~
I waited.
Every muscle in my body tensed with anticipation, my ears straining for any sound in the corridor outside. Dr. Reeves had left fifteen minutes ago, promising to return in an hour. That gave me a window, small, but workable.
I pushed myself upright slowly, testing my body's response. Everything hurt—a deep, bone-level exhaustion that suggested my system was still recovering from dying. My hands trembled. My head pounded. The IV in my arm pulled uncomfortably.
But I could move.
That's all that mattered.
I carefully pulled the IV out, wincing as the needle slid free. Blood welled at the insertion point. I pressed a tissue against it until the bleeding stopped, then secured it with medical tape from the supply cart near the bed.
My clothes, the torn, bloodied hospital gown—wouldn't work. I needed something less conspicuous.
