CHAPTER 27
SEBASTIAN
My eyelids feel like they’re made of stone. There’s a bitter, metallic taste in my mouth, and it sounds like a battalion of screaming witches is marching straight through my skull.
Where am I? What the hell is happening?
I’m disoriented. Scared. The fog in my brain is thick and suffocating, and I have no idea which way is up. Then something tugs at my arm, and sheer panic explodes in my chest. I start to thrash, desperate to break free from whatever’s restraining me.
Until I feel a familiar touch on my cheek.
A gentle, grounding touch.
And then I hear his voice. The one voice that can cut through any storm.
“Seb… Sebastian… love, I’m here. I’m right here, baby. Don’t worry…”
Remi’s voice is shaking, but it's real. It's him. The sound of it pierces the haze, pulling me back to myself.
Then he shouts, frantic: “Get a doctor! Now! He’s awake, Sebastian’s awake!”
His hand never leaves my cheek. Warm. Steady. The only thing anchoring me to this moment. Despite the tremble in his voice, that hand tells me I’m safe. It quiets the roar in my head.
“How do you feel, Seb? Can you… Can you open your eyes, baby?”
My tongue feels like sandpaper, thick and dry against the roof of my mouth. I can’t speak. But that voice, that soft, steady voice, keeps me from sinking. Keeps me trying.
With what feels like an impossible effort, I manage to crack my eyelids open, just a sliver, and force out a few words. But the sight that greets me makes my stomach twist.
Remi.
His eyes are glassy, rimmed with red. His face is drawn, wrecked. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and it shatters something inside me.
“W-what… what happened, Remi?”
He leans in, brushing my forehead with his fingers like he still can’t believe I’m awake. Like he’s afraid I’ll slip away again if he stops touching me.
“You… you fell down the stairs, Seb…” His jaw tightens around the words, like each one cuts him open. He swallows hard, then continues, voice barely holding together. “You were hurt, badly… You’ve been unconscious for three days. But you’re awake now. You’re here. Thank God…”
His hand stays on my skin, and in that warmth, I feel something steady anchor itself inside me again.
I’m here.
And so is he.
Remi squeezes my hand tightly, and then, finally, he breaks.
He starts to sob, openly and uncontrollably, just as a doctor enters the room. The man approaches quietly and, with a gentle tone, asks Remi to step outside.
I try to protest, to tell him not to leave, but Remi leans in and strokes my shoulder with the softest touch.
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be right outside the door,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not going anywhere. Not without you… I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”
I nod, though every part of me wants to cling to him. But I let him go. For now.
The doctor turns to me, Dr Warren, his name tag says, and offers a calm, professional smile.
He starts by shining a blinding light in one eye, then the other, watching closely. Next, he checks the monitor beside my bed, listening to the steady rhythm of my heart. Then he lifts the sheet and begins a full physical exam, methodical, impersonal.
Finally, he tests my reflexes. The sudden prick of a needle on my arm makes me yelp.
Dr Warren glances up at me with a reassuring nod. “The fact that you can feel that is actually very encouraging,” he says. “It means your sensory response hasn’t been affected by the head injury. From what I can tell so far, all your functions are intact.”
I exhale slowly, a faint tremor rippling through my chest. It’s the first flicker of hope I’ve felt since waking up.
Dr Warren’s tone is calm, reassuring, though his eyes remain sharply focused as he taps and presses along my arms, my legs, my ribs, methodical and precise.
I grit my teeth against the discomfort. I’m still foggy, but I need answers. I need to understand why I’m lying in a hospital bed, barely able to move.
“Doctor… what happened to me?” My voice cracks with the question. “Why am I here?”
He looks up at once, pausing to study me carefully before responding.
“You fell down a flight of stairs and suffered a significant head injury. You’ve been unconscious for three days, Sebastian.”
No softening of the truth. No gentle lead-in. Just the facts, cold and clean.
I blink, stunned. Three days.
He seems to register the shock in my expression, and his voice softens slightly.
“We’ll need to run some follow-up scans, neurological assessments, motor response tests, just to be sure there’s no lasting damage. But from what I’ve seen so far, I’d say you’ve been extremely fortunate. If you believe in guardian angels, I’d say yours earned their pay this week.”
He offers a small, almost apologetic smile. I try to return it, but my mind is already spiralling.
There’s only one thing I care about right now, one question I have to ask.
“Doctor… I’m a pianist. Music is my life. If there’s anything, anything, wrong with my hands or coordination… I need to know now.”
The words barely make it out. I’m almost too afraid to hear the answer.
But he doesn’t hesitate.
“From everything I’ve seen so far, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.
Your motor responses are intact, and there’s no indication of neurological impairment.
We’ll confirm that with scans, of course, but right now, I’d say you’ll be absolutely fine.
A few bruises. Some dizziness, maybe headaches, for a few days. But you’ll heal.”
I close my eyes for a moment, and the relief hits me so hard it’s almost overwhelming.
I can still play.
I exhale shakily, eyes brimming with tears at the thought of what I might’ve lost… and how close I came.
Then Dr Warren’s voice shifts, softer, but more serious.
“There’s one more thing, Sebastian,” he says gently. “You don’t have to decide anything now, but you should start thinking about what you’d like to say to the police. Now that you’re awake, they may want to speak with you soon.”
“The police?” I blink, confused. “Why would they want to talk to me?”
He hesitates, then continues with careful precision.
“Your boyfriend, the one who called the ambulance, who quite possibly saved your life, told us you were pushed down the stairs by a third party.”
My heart drops. Maddie.
The memories return like splinters, shards of shouting, a flash of rage, the feel of her hand on my arm. The sickening sense of falling.
But no. She wouldn’t have meant to hurt me. Would she?
“We asked him whether he wanted to press charges,” the doctor adds. “He said he was inclined to, but that he’d wait until you were conscious. That the decision should be yours.”
I nod, overwhelmed by a rush of gratitude that Remi, even now, chose to respect my autonomy.
“Alright, Doctor. I understand. I just… I need time to think.”
Dr Warren pauses at the door, then turns back with a seriousness that makes my chest tighten.
“If I may, Sebastian,” he says gently, “you shouldn’t let this person get away with what they’ve done. You were incredibly lucky. When I mentioned guardian angels, I wasn’t being poetic. I’ve seen very few people wake up from a head trauma like yours without lasting damage…”
His words hit harder than I expected, but he doesn’t linger. He gathers his things and moves toward the door.
“Try to rest,” he adds. “There are a lot of people eager to see you, you can have visitors, but take it slow. And… one last thing.”
He hesitates, then gives me a look somewhere between stern and fond.
“If you can convince your boyfriend to go home for a few hours, I’d appreciate it. He’s been glued to that chair for three days, hasn’t eaten, and hasn’t slept. I’d rather not end up admitting him, too.”
I stare at the doctor, stunned. He just shakes his head, offering a weary but fond smile.
“That boy hasn’t left your side since the moment you came in with the ambulance. We tried everything to get him to rest, but he wouldn’t budge. If he weren’t Emma’s son, I might’ve had security throw him out just for his own good. But I didn’t have the heart.”
He pauses, a glint of amusement in his eye.
“And frankly, I wouldn’t have dared. That woman turns into a lioness if you so much as look at one of her children the wrong way…”
My eyes fill with tears at the thought of that stubborn man, my... boyfriend? That’s how Dr Warren described him, and I realize I quite like the sound of it.
“I’ll do what I can,” I promise, offering the doctor a faint smile. “But I can’t make any guarantees…”
“You’ll be here for at least another two or three days,” he replies. “Try to get some proper rest, and convince your boyfriend to do the same.”
Then he’s gone, and barely a second later, Remi bursts back into the room. His eyes are red-rimmed, his expression tight with worry, but the moment he sees me awake, something softens in him.
He reaches for my hand immediately, careful not to disturb the IV.
“How are you feeling, baby? What did the doctor say? My… my mum knows him, says he’s one of the best.”
“He definitely seemed competent,” I murmur. “And kind. He said there’s no sign of lasting damage… I’ll need to stay a few more days so they can be sure, but… apparently I’m going to be okay.”
Remi lets out a long, shaky breath, like he’s been holding it in since the moment I fell.
“Alright, baby,” he says, managing a small, tearful smile. “We’ll do whatever they say. But that… that sounds like good news. Really good news.”
He leans down and presses a soft kiss to my forehead, then brushes my hair back gently. His voice is quieter when he speaks again.
“There are a few people outside who’d love to see you. But only if you’re up for it, no pressure at all. They just… they just want you to know you’re not alone.”
I blink at him, surprise fluttering in my chest, quickly followed by a wave of nerves.
“Who?” I ask quietly. “Who’s out there?”
His face lights up.
“Well, there’s Mum, Maude, and Ben, of course. Then Anne, Francis, Noah, Jamie, and Ian. ”