ECHOES OF US | 18+ ✔️

CHAPTER 34

DANTÉ

The first thing that registers is a faint, sterile scent—antiseptic, sharp and cold. I try to open my eyes, but the effort feels like an immense task, as if my eyelids are made of lead. Shadows dance behind my closed lids, and then—through the haze—I hear muffled sounds, distorted and distant.

My body feels unbearably heavy, a strange, unsettling weight pressing down on me. Disoriented, I struggle to make sense of the sensations creeping in. My chest feels like it's trapped in a vice. Every breath is a labored feat, filling my lungs with a dull, relentless ache.

An unfamiliar female voice, soft yet firm, breaks through the fog. "Breathe slow and steady, Mr. Pérez," she says, her words barely piercing the fog. I try to obey, but even the simple act of breathing feels strenuous and foreign, each breath scratching its way through my chest.

With immense effort, I finally manage to crack my eyes open. The world around me is a blur of harsh white light and muted shapes. Gradually, as the haze begins to clear, I make out the white walls, sterile smell, the persistent hum of a machine, and the rhythmic beep that echoes somewhere close.

Hospital...

Why am I here?

A sharp dryness grips my throat, raw and scratchy, as if I've swallowed shards of glass. When I try to speak, my voice is no more than a hoarse croak, barely escaping my cracked lips. "W-Water..." I stammer.

The nurse's face comes into focus as she brings a straw to my lips, guiding it gently. The first sip of cold water is like a balm, flooding my mouth, but swallowing is a struggle, each gulp catching painfully in my throat. She pulls the bottle back and begins checking my vitals, her movements efficient but gentle. "I'll notify your doctor that you're awake," she says softly.

She turns to leave, and I try to lift my hand, but an IV line tugs against my skin, restraining me in place.

"H-How long...?" I manage to rasp.

"You've been in an induced coma, Mr. Pérez. The doctor will explain more," she replies, giving me a reassuring nod before disappearing through the doorway.

Moments later, a man with gray hair and kind eyes steps into the room, his expression warm but cautious. "Good day, I'm Dr. Austin," he says with a soft smile. "You're one lucky man, Mr. Pérez."

I manage a faint frown, my voice still barely there. "How... how so?"

"Do you remember what happened?" he asks, his gaze searching my face.

"No," I whisper, frustration and confusion bubbling under the surface.

He nods, his smile reassuring. "It's normal not to remember. You've been through a tremendous ordeal. For the next few days, you might struggle with some confusion. But give it time... memories often come back in pieces."

I nod weakly, and he continues, his tone gentle but firm. "You had to undergo emergency surgery. The injuries were extensive. You lost a significant amount of blood, and we nearly lost you twice on the operating table. Two bullets were removed. One fractured a rib, bruising your lung and caused damage that needed immediate stabilization. The second one..." He pauses, a shadow of seriousness crossing his face. "It missed your heart by less than half an inch. We had to place you in a medically induced coma for three weeks to allow your body to heal and to manage the pain."

The words sink in slowly, each one heavy with the gravity of what he's saying. The doctor's voice fades in and out as I try to process it all, feeling the weight of each word in the dull ache still throbbing through my chest.