“Caleb,” I croaked, clearing my throat, a burning coming out of nowhere. “Hunt.” I coughed, and there was fire.

The blanket’s fingers squeezed mine, that touch becoming the only thing that didn’t ache. “Caleb, I’m going to ask you some questions. Can you do your best to answer them?”

Something was around my head, stopping me from nodding.

“Yes.” I looked above the brown, realizing the white was the tiles of the ceiling. “Where am I?”

“Mass General,” the blanket said. “I don’t know how much you remember, but there was an explosion at the marathon, and you landed on top of a metal barrier.” The brown didn’t dull, nor did it look away. “I need you to tell me what part of your body hurts.”

I searched. The pain was there, constant, like a neighbor, but every time I tried to knock, I couldn’t find the door. “I don’t know.” I swallowed, and there it was—the reminder, the burning, the intolerable stabbing. “What’s wrong with me?”

“We won’t know until we take X-rays.”

As we went faster, the tiles were almost too blurry to distinguish. I knew my feet weren’t on the ground, that I wasn’t the one doing the running, but it felt like my body was back there—somewhere—and I had this urge to catch up.

Except I couldn’t.

“I can’t feel my toes,” I choked out.

“That’s okay.”

“No …” The scorching in my throat tasted like blood. “I can’t feel my fucking toes!” I went to raise my legs, and a whole new level of agony blasted through me, so strong that I gagged. I spit what was in my mouth and shouted, “Fuck!”

“Just a few more minutes, and the pain will be gone,” the blanket promised.

There was suddenly stillness, blue swishing around me, buzzing coming in and out of my ears.

“Nooo,” I howled, clamping down on her hand when she went to turn her back. “Don’t leave me.”

I needed the blanket tucked around me.

I needed more promises.

“I’m not going anywhere.” The brown looked away and then connected with my eyes again. “Caleb, I’m going to touch your legs. Tell me if you can feel anything, okay?”

I waited.

I tried taking a breath, the taste of blood even more present than before.

“Have you started?” I pleaded. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Don’t worry; you’re doing great,” she said calmly. “I have a pair of scissors in my other hand, and I’m going to release you, so I can cut off your jeans to assess the injuries on your legs.”

Her fingers were gone, and so was the brown, now just the white tiles blinking above me.

I expected the pain to take hold at any second, for a scream to fill my mouth again.

But there was nothing.