Chapter 48. A Message from Mom

CHARLOTTE

My eyes opened, but my eyelids felt heavy and sticky—crusted with last night’s tears. A dull ache pulsed through my skull, and my limbs refused to cooperate.

Even blinking required effort, as if my whole body had turned against me.

The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and rain—that cool, damp scent that seeps through open windows.

The drumming against the glass told me the downpour was that heavy, its rhythm almost soothing. But my body was too weighed down to relax into it.

Suddenly, I felt two fingers pressed against my wrist.

“Her pulse is fast,” an unfamiliar male voice said.

“That means it’s very bad.” A second voice said with a panicking tone.

The second voice unlike the first, was very familiar.

“Please calm down, Mr. Leo. Let’s check her BP.”

That must be a male nurse or doctor, I thought.

A cuff was tightened around my arm, the pressure building until it released with a hiss.

Then a sigh fol