A sound pulled me from my dreamless sleep. My eyelids felt like they were weighted with lead, and my mouth was desert-dry. The room was dimmer than I remembered, with only a single light illuminating the space.
"Miss Croft?" A man's voice, unfamiliar yet professional, broke through my foggy consciousness. "I'm here to take you down for some imaging."
I blinked several times, struggling to focus on the figure standing beside my bed. He wore pale blue scrubs and had a clipboard tucked under one arm. His face was ordinary, forgettable—the kind you'd pass on the street without a second glance.
"Imaging?" My voice came out as a rasp. "Now? What time is it?"
"Just after midnight," he replied smoothly, already unlocking the wheels on my bed. "Doctor's orders. We need to check on your internal healing."
