(Rebecca's POV)
They've given me something for the pain, and it's doing its job on my hip and my ribs, dulling the sharp edges down into something distant and manageable.
It isn't touching the other thing.
The other thing doesn't respond to whatever's dripping into the line taped to the back of my hand. It just sits there, low and heavy, exactly where it's been sitting since the path — since the moment my body knew something my voice refused to say out loud for Jack's sake, since somewhere in the middle of I'm fine, baby, I'm fine said in a tone I built specifically to sound like it wasn't lying.
I knew on the path. I've known this whole time, through the ambulance, through the blood pressure cuff tightening and loosening on my arm, through the monitor clipped to my wrist doing its pat
