Artemis pov

I watched Freya from her bed as she laid still. She was cladded in white long pants and shirt, a bandage wrapped around her torso. Her breathing was even as she laid back flat staring at the ceiling with eyes shot and mouth sealed. The atmosphere was still and tender, marked with the smell of disinfectant and drugs.

Every little activity was noticed by everyone as there was one significant mode in the building, panic. People often ran in a disheveled format, hurrying like they ...