Lucian
Mara passed out before we even made it to the hospital.
The paramedics had given her sedatives for the pain—just enough to quiet her body, not the damage.
They said her ribs had healed wrong. The only way to fix them was to break them again.
We went straight into the emergency room. I stayed the whole time.
Watched them re-break her bones like it was nothing.
Watched her body jerk and shift as they worked. She didn’t feel it—thank God—but I did.
Every snap, every grimace from the doctors, burned through me.
I kept thinking of my father, and anger knotted in my chest. This was his fault. And mine, in some twisted way I couldn't shake.
When it was over, they moved her to a private room. She slept—deep, drugged sleep—for twelve hours.
I sat beside her, drifting in and
