Tiel's vision swam, the glow of the apartment ceiling light flickering in and out of focus as he lay crumpled on the cold floor. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, mixing with the distant echo of hurried voices. Pain radiated through his chest, sharp and unrelenting, as though his body was rejecting itself.
"Please! Please tell me he's going to be okay!"
"Mam, please stay calm, we need to take your accounts for the report."
Tiel tried to push himself upright, but his limbs felt heavy, useless. Fear slithered into his chest, tightening around his ribs like a vice. What was happening to him? Why couldn't he move? His breaths came fast and shallow, each one catching on the rising panic clawing its way to the surface.
"And then what happened?"
"I got scared! I was afraid! He was so strong!"
"So you shot four? You said he was your son..."