a P

lt like it was settling in my bones. I was floating, detached, watching the scene from somew

calpel in his hand gleamed. I felt no fear, only a profound weariness. He made the first in

ady, rhythmic beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Th

a nervous whisper. "Her pressure i

with a stress I could feel even from my detached state. Th

larm that cut through the room's tension. My heart, t

oice crackled, distorted and impatie

ye, pacing behind the observat

ha," Dr. Sanchez lied, his hands never c

ity. Then he stopped. His brow furrowed above his mask. I saw the subtle shift

, his fingers met only empty space and the rough, scarre

e. He didn't believe it. He repositioned his hands, exploring from a different angle

the unmistakable line of a surgical scar, old and lon

his shocked stillnes

monitor was replaced by a single,

s er

-fib! Get t

one of

's voice no longer a command, but a roar

brutal, useless drumbeat. They shocked my body, making it arch violently

trembling with disbelief. "Doctor, it's not working

e with a horrifying realization. He looked from my lifeless body to the monitor, then back again. The

itself togeth

k

efforts of his team. He was a healer, a man sworn to p

taggered toward the intercom on the wa

, laced with a fury that promised death. "What is

y shaking. He closed his eyes, took a deep, ragged breath that soun

u fool!" he howled, his voice raw wi