Sylvain lay in the hospital bed, his body still weak from exhaustion and the earlier sedation, but his mind was wide awake and tormented.
The sterile white room felt like a prison, the beeping monitors a constant reminder of his fragility. He had barely slept since waking earlier, his thoughts consumed by one single, agonizing question: Where was Leon? Was he still alive? Was he still screaming for help in some dark place while Sylvain lay here, useless and broken?
A nurse entered quietly, carrying a tray with medication and a new IV bag. She offered him a gentle smile, but Sylvain's eyes locked onto the syringe with raw fear.
"What are you doing?" Sylvain whispered, his voice hoarse and trembling, barely above a broken breath. He pushed himself up slightly against the pillows, his hands shaking. "Please… don't come closer with that. I don't want it."
