Adrian
Pain isn't the worst part.
Pain is familiar, quantifiable. You can name it, endure it, push past it.
What terrifies me is the silence after.
I wake up suspended in white space that too clean, it looked like an infirmary. The ceiling swims above me, lights blurred into halos. Every breath drags like it's being pulled through glass. My limbs feel distant, mis-wired, as if my body and mind are negotiating terms of cooperation.
I try to reach outward.
Nothing answers.
The psychic lattice, my constant companion, my curse and my weapon is quiet. Not gone. Just… withdrawn. Like an animal that's been beaten too close to death to bare its teeth.
Panic flares sharp and sudden.
I force myself to breathe through it.
"Easy," a voice murmur.
Elena.
Even before I open my eyes, I know it's her. The way she says my name, not commanding, not afraid, but steady. As if anchoring a rope around something drifting too far out to sea.
My eyelids flutter open.
