I floated.
Not in water. Not anymore.
But my limbs felt loose, weightless, like gravity had forgotten me.
I drifted in and out of sleep, memories slipping through the cracks.
Ashton's arms. The sting of pool water against my skin.
A towel. A bed. Sleep. But not for long.
Then the blur of movement—his chest under my cheek, the lurch of a car.
I was somewhere else after that. Multiple voices, hands on my forehead and wrist, an electronic beep, receding footsteps, then a different kind of quiet. Cooler air. Sterile, sharp.
A hospital. I knew the smell.
At some point, something slid into my arm. A tube. IV fluid dripping, seeping into my bloodstream.
Cold trickled in. I shivered in relief.
There were voices again. One of them soft, tight with worry.
Yvaine
