Morning came too quickly.

The alarm went off at six, a soft chime meant to be gentle, but it still sliced through my sleep like a blade. I lay there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, my body heavy, my mind already racing. The events of the past days clung to me like a second skin. Police lights. Hospital corridors. And beneath all of it, the image I kept trying to bury, Ezekiel, broken and unconscious after the accident.

I hated that my mind went there first.

I pushed myself out of ...