a P
lt like it was settling in my bones. I was floating, detached, watching the scene from somew
calpel in his hand gleamed. I felt no fear, only a profound weariness. He made the first in
ady, rhythmic beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Th
a nervous whisper. "Her pressure i
with a stress I could feel even from my detached state. Th
larm that cut through the room's tension. My heart, t
oice crackled, distorted and impatie
ye, pacing behind the observat
ha," Dr. Sanchez lied, his hands never c
ity. Then he stopped. His brow furrowed above his mask. I saw the subtle shift
, his fingers met only empty space and the rough, scarre
e. He didn't believe it. He repositioned his hands, exploring from a different angle
the unmistakable line of a surgical scar, old and lon
his shocked stillnes
monitor was replaced by a single,
s er
-fib! Get t
one of
's voice no longer a command, but a roar
brutal, useless drumbeat. They shocked my body, making it arch violently
trembling with disbelief. "Doctor, it's not working
e with a horrifying realization. He looked from my lifeless body to the monitor, then back again. The
itself togeth
k
efforts of his team. He was a healer, a man sworn to p
taggered toward the intercom on the wa
, laced with a fury that promised death. "What is
y shaking. He closed his eyes, took a deep, ragged breath that soun
u fool!" he howled, his voice raw wi
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