Pain had texture.
That was the first thing Ethan understood when the world crawled back into focus.
It wasn't just the sharp sting that came with penetration and blood. No, sharp would have been merciful, something he could grit his teeth through until it passed. This hurt was layered, deep, and stubborn, a drag through muscle and bone that pulsed in slow waves. His right shoulder felt like someone had jammed fire into it and then politely asked him to breathe normally while it burned.
So breathing became an exercise.
In.
Out.
'Be calm.'
'Don't make any sudden movement.'
'Don't make the pain harder than it already was.'
The room smelled like antiseptic and filtered air, the very expensive sterile that meant someone had signed a lot of papers to make sure he was protected.
The ceiling was high. The lighting was soft and golden, not the white one of the regular area of hospitals. VVIP, his brain supplied dimly, someone told him at some point.
