Ahh my eyes… where am I? I stare at the ceiling, my hand heavy with something cold. I look around and realize I'm in a hospital room, an IV dripping slowly into my veins. On the bedside table sits a vase of fresh roses, their scent too sweet for this sterile place. I slowly sit up, my head aching, trying to gather the fragments of memory. Then it hits me—Kyle, his words, that cold night.
I search around for my phone, panic rising, until I spot it on the table. Beside it, a folded note. My hands tremble as I open it.
Take care of yourself. I'll meet you soon.
Kyle.
With a frustrated sigh, I crumple the paper and throw it aside. I grab my phone—dozens of missed calls from Jimmy. Guilt twists inside me.
