A scream tore from me while the heart monitor erupted into a frantic alarm.
The injury was not only where his fists landed.
Pain shot through my fractured ribs, spread across my abdomen, and climbed into my chest until breathing felt impossible.
My fingers slipped against the rail.
I tasted something metallic and fought not to lose consciousness.
Caleb stood over me, breathing hard.
Outside the room, the hospital had records of everything.
His name was in the visitor log.
My medication schedule was at the nurses’ station.
My admission time was documented as 6:42 p.m.
A bright yellow fall-risk warning was attached to my file.
The doctors had written clear instructions about my limited movement.
Every nurse assigned to me understood that transferring me required care, equipment, and assistance.
Everyone there understood that I was a patient.
Caleb was the only person determined to treat me like a problem.
