“Check Martinez! He’s not moving!”
“Brace Reed’s neck! Watch the shoulder! It’s completely out!”
What the hell?
I heard bangs on the mat inside the ring.One… two… three.
“… Has been eliminated!”
“…Has been eliminated!”
The announcer’s voice echoed.
I was being lifted. I looked back toward the ring one last time as my head lolled to the side.
Cal was standing in the center. Surrounded by five men. He wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at me being carried away. He looked small. He looked completely alone.
“Stay with us, Reed,” I heard someone say close to my ear.
I was put on a stretcher, no, a spinal board?Fuck, my arm, I swear it was ripped off.
Wait, I can’t feel my fingers. Fuck, why can’t I move my hand? Why are they bracing my neck?
I can’t breathe.
The dive.
How did I fall? Where was Camden? Martinez? Were they still in the match?
They had to be, I must’ve missed them, I had to have, they didn’t stop the match, did they?
“…Has been… Eliminated.”
Callum…
Fuck, Cal.
He’s probably scared, I wonder if he knows I’m alright.
I’m getting cold, where am I?
Am I bleeding?
“Silas! Don’t fall asleep!” a medic yelled as we moved.
18
NOVEMBER - CHARLOTTE, NORTHCAROLINA / ORLANDO, FLORIDA
Now playing: making the bed - Olivia Rodrigo
Thedarknesswasn’tpeaceful.It was heavy, suffocating, a thick black tar that trapped me in a loop of falling.
Over and over again, I was on the ladder. I was looking down. I saw the ring canvas, a miles away square of white. I saw the bodies scattered like broken toys. And then the fall. The stomach-churning drop. The wind rushing past my ears. The impact that didn’t just break bone, but shattered reality.
My eyes fluttered open, but there was no relief.
Pain.
