Rainie helped Ethan up the worn staircase to the third floor, her arm steady under his weight.
She pulled a key from her pocket, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. The faint, sharp tang of disinfectant hit him as soon as he stepped inside. He didn't like the smell — it was cold, clinical — but it stirred something in his mind. After high school, he'd heard Rainie had gotten into a top medical university. This had to be the illusion piecing things together from scraps of his memories.
"I'll grab the first-aid kit." She guided him to the sofa, set him down gently, and hurried into another room. Ethan's eyes roamed the space. The apartment had been renovated with a sleek, modern style. Without it, the age of the building would've been obvious.
Rainie returned and knelt beside him, pulling iodine from the kit. "You're hurt pretty badly. I'll give you a quick patch-up, but we still need to get you to a hospital."
