~Anning~
They moved me to a room literally two doors down. Close enough I could hear if shit hit the fan again. Great. Sleepover with my ex and his dying-of-me husband. Romantic.
I tried to sleep. Failed hard. Stared at the ceiling, replayed everything. The triumph I'd felt earlier? Stupid. Sick. What kind of psycho gets off on someone else's pain? Me, apparently. Awesome.
Hours crawled. Clock said 3 a.m. or some bullshit. I was half-dozing, finally, when the door creaked open slow.
I sat up fast. "If you're here to yell more…."
But it wasn't Fan Xiao.
Lee Know stood there in a hospital gown way too big, IV pole dragging behind him, face ghost-white, eyes glassy from whatever drugs they pumped him with. He looked lost, confused, like a kid waking up from a nightmare.
"Xiao?" he mumbled, voice hoarse, small. "That you?"
My stomach dropped. "Uh. No. Wrong room, buddy."
He blinked slowly, swaying a little. "But... you smell like him. Safe. Need you."
