"Mom…"
Cynthia's voice was barely a whisper.
The hospital room was quiet, except for the steady beeping of the monitor beside her bed. The white lights above felt too bright. Too cold.
Her body was weak.
Her lips dry.
Her eyes swollen from crying.
But her mind—
Was finally clear.
Mrs. Jane Worthington of the Worthington District sat beside her daughter, fingers wrapped tightly around Cynthia's hand. Her posture was strong, but her eyes carried something deeper—
Fear.
"Don't talk too much," she said softly. "You need rest."
Cynthia shook her head slowly.
"No… listen to me…"
Tears slid down her cheeks.
"I don't have time…"
Mrs. Worthington's grip tightened instantly.
"Don't say that."
But Cynthia's eyes—
Held something raw.
Something real.
"They're watching me…"
Her voice trembled.
"I can feel it…"
Mrs. Worthington frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Cynthia swallowed hard.
