She didn’t know how long it lasted, just that it hurt and that she could only grit her teeth and bear it. The voice that came to her was urgent, she could tell that. It kept telling her to not leave, but she wanted to. She wanted to be anywhere else but here. At some point, there was a bustling beside her and she felt a cool liquid being poured down her throat. It was only after that when her vision started to clear that she was able to discern where she was. She felt the sheets tangled in her fingers, felt the rawness in her throat from crying, and felt a presence beside her that seemed all too familiar.

Her mind was still struggling to focus on one singular thing. Irene lifted her hand. Maybe the person belonging to the voice was still there. She might as well have been moving through quicksand as she turned her gaze towards where the voice had come from. She drew a breath and the familiar scent of wood and something else more acrid and bitter - varnish, a voice told her - and lay her eyes on the person sitting next to her.

She blinked again, staring at him. He was completely disheveled and his hair looked like he’d been attacked by birds. He looked tired too. Panicked about something, maybe? Irene tugged her expression into one that mirrored his. “What’s wrong?”

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