Chapter 96. Chrysanthemums

Ryan

The cold splash of water shocks Ryan awake. His head is throbbing, each pulse like a mallet pounding against his skull. He groans, squinting against the morning light. Everywhere is bright. Too bright. It’s like a thousand needles piercing his eyes. His mouth feels dry and cottony. He tries to swallow, but his throat is parched. As he tries to sit up, the room spins. You’d think after two months, he’d get used to this feeling. But it hurts every single time.

"Aww," he says, clutching his head. "What the hell—"

"Don’t get up too fast."

The voice is sharp, familiar, and unapologetic. He blinks away the fog until his mother’s silhouette sharpens before him. She’s standing tall and imposing, dressed in a cream suit that somehow looks both effortless and intimidating. In one hand, she holds a half-emptied glass of water, the one she’d poured on his face. In the other, two white pills.

"Don’t tell me you’ve finally decided to kill me," R