One more attempt. Had to try. Needed to prove I could still communicate, still function, still,
My throat strained. Jaw worked. Everything in me focused on producing one single sound.
Nothing came.
The full weight of it crashed down. Not temporary. Not something I could force through will. This was real. Maybe permanent. Maybe I’d never speak again.
The silence would swallow me whole.
My lungs worked faster. Air going shallow, rapid. Palm still pressed to my throat, feeling muscles work uselessly. Everything felt wrong, broken, fundamental parts had been cut away, and I was just noticing.
“I’ll help you.”
Her voice again. Certain. Absolute.
My focus found hers.
“I don’t know what’s wrong yet. I don’t know how to fix it. But I’ll help you figure it out.”
The words should sound hollow. Empty promise from someone clearly in over her head. I could see it in her face, the doubt underneath, the fear that she was failing, the exhaustion threatening to pull her under.
But she didn’t look away. Held my stare with stubborn determination that felt more real than comfort would have.
Something in my lungs eased. Just enough to let air in properly.
Why do I believe her?
Didn’t know. Shouldn’t believe anyone. Every instinct, the ones operating without my permission, noting threats and exits, screamed trust no one.
But my body had already decided. The panic receded. My lungs slowed. The defensive tension I’d been holding since waking loosened by degrees I didn’t consciously choose.
My system recognized her as safe before my mind could object.
“Right now, you need to rest. Let the antibiotics work. Then we’ll figure out the rest.”
Rest.
The word felt as though it were permission I’d been waiting for. My body was already surrendering, fever dragging me down, exhaustion winning battles I didn’t know I was fighting.
But I held her stare a moment longer. Searching for... what?
Truth, maybe. Proof this wasn’t manipulation. Evidence that her determination was real and not performance for an audience of one.
Found something in those golden-brown depths. Couldn’t name it. Just... warmth. Directed at me despite the wariness, despite the fear, despite everything that should make her run.
My lids wanted to close. Fever and damage and blood loss pulling me under, inevitable, drowning the same way the river must have.
But not alone this time.
She was here. Would be here when I surfaced again. Stubborn enough to keep fighting even when I couldn’t.
Don’t trust this.
Automatic. That clinical voice in my head again.
Why do I sound like that?
She moved around the room with purpose. Confident. Knowing what she was doing.
