Page 86 of The Ruin I Chose

Her eyes flew open.

“You did this to me.”

I fell back into blackness.

I opened my eyes to white walls and a steady beep drilling into my skull. Santino sat texting in the corner.

“Oh, you’re awake. I’ll call the doctor.”

“What happened?” I asked as soon as he came back.

“You had a panic attack,” the doctor replied.

“A what? I’ve never had those.”

“It can be triggered by stress, trauma or fear. It peaks fast—racing heart, shortness of breath, blackout. Like drowning in air,” the doctor explained briefly.

“I guess you went through all of it in one go.” Santino joked.

“You need to go easy on the stress.” The doctor interjected.

“I’ll be stress-free once he’s dead,” I muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry. Must be the meds.” I suddenly said.

Santino snickered behind the doctor.

“Get some rest. Take these when you feel it coming. And breathe. Your friend knows the drill.”

I stared at the pills the doctor held out. I didn’t move.

Ten seconds passed. He handed them to Santino and walked out.

“How long was I out?” I asked Santino.

“Over twenty-four hours.”

“Fuck.”

I looked down, cleared my throat. My voice was low. My eyes—hollow.

“Is she…”

I couldn’t get myself to speak the words. They stuck in my throat like glass.

Was she gone?

The room was cool. Snow settled outside. But I felt like I was burning—dragged through hell, skin first. It was scorching me from the inside.

“She’s okay. Left the hospital the next day. Just a minor scratch.”

Santino looked at me with an assuring nod. I shifted on my bed.

Minor.

I saw the open gash on her head.