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Summary
Outside the door, the noises of the ED carry on. Monitors beep, non-slip sneakers squeak on the floors, and chatter floats down the halls. Suddenly, it’s all Samira can focus on, and it makes her feel insane.
She meets Abbot’s gaze, and she finds no humor in it. She starts pacing again before she breaks something.
“Your pupils are blown,” he says quietly.
For the first time in days, something akin to genuine fear breaks through the haze.
“I didn’t take anything.”
He nods slowly. “Okay, then let’s talk through the differential."
OR
bipolar samira with a side of mohabbot slow(ish) burn
Series