By the time the medicine had settled, the world wasn't screaming anymore but humming faintly at the edge of his mind.
A small miracle, really.
The air didn't slice through him when he breathed, the light no longer clawed behind his eyes, and the steady pulse in his wrist felt like something human again instead of a warning sign. He could still hear everything, the quiet click of the vent, the murmur of voices from the hall, and the faint drag of the stylus against Nadia's tablet, but it was tolerable.
When he finally tried to move, sitting at the edge of the couch, the room tilted, then steadied. 'Progress.'
Nadia was watching from the chair near the couch, one leg crossed neatly over the other. She didn't say 'I told you so,' but her expression did.
"How do you feel?"
"Like someone peeled me out of my own skin and handed me a new one three sizes too small," Chris said. "So, you know. Better."
"That's progress," she said, writing something down.
