Time ceased to have meaning.
The pain came in relentless waves. They rose, crashed and receded. Only to gather strength and break over him again.
The intervals between them became the only measure of time he possessed, and even those dissolved into something meaningless. Minutes and seconds no longer existed. There was only the next wave.
More than once, he convinced himself the worst had finally passed.
He was wrong. Every time, every single time.
At one point, he became certain he was dying. Sometime later, he wasn't entirely sure dying would be worse than enduring another wave.
Then, through the haze of agony, another thought surfaced.
'Sacha.'
What would happen if she came home and found him like this?
The image cut through the pain with startling clarity, anchoring him just enough to keep his mind from slipping away.
Other faces followed.
'Sophie.'
'Maya.'
'Mia.'
'Amelia.'
'Sarah.'
