It's been almost a month since I've been hooked up to the hospital machines.
A month since I've last seen Luther.
Wonder if he got home by now. Probably not.
The medically induced paralysis Emiliano put me under gave me enough time to think.
To overthink.
I must admit that I put my feelings and beliefs before Luther's wills. But I only had the best intentions at heart.
Pointless.
Every night, as the drops of the IV kept falling, reminding me that I am responsible for all-
The prison of my own flesh.
Luther's captivity.
That cursing sound-
Drop.
Drop.
Drop.
Kept dropping on my brain like a Chinese water torture device. And with every painful impact came a more painful memory of Luther.
Was it possible for a man to break a medically induced paralysis?
Yes.
As the days went by, the dosage got cut to half, the bodyguard distracted, the nurses sloppy.
Sloppy enough to not pay attention when I stole an EpiPen from their tray.
Sloppy enough not to notice.
