(Ridge)
The hospital was too bright. Too loud. Too sterile.
I sat on the bed while a doctor stitched up my side. Mira was next to me. Holding my hand.
"You're lucky," the doctor said. "It's just a graze. The bullet went through clean. No major organs hit."
"So I can leave?"
"No. You lost a lot of blood. I want to keep you here for a few days. Observation. Make sure there's no infection."
"I don't have a few days."
The doctor looked at me. "You do if you want to heal properly."
"I'm fine."
Mira squeezed my hand. "Ridge. Listen to him."
"I can't stay here. I've got responsibilities."
"What responsibilities are more important than your health?" the doctor asked.
"The kind I can't ignore."
The doctor finished stitching. Bandaged my side. "You're no good to anyone if you bleed out.
