You feel your pressure dropping, a wave of dizziness crashing over you as your legs grow unsteady beneath you. The once vibrant streets blur at the edges, colors bleeding into one another like a watercolor painting left out in the rain. Your ears ring, distant voices fading into an indistinct hum.

Each step feels heavier than the last, your limbs sluggish, as if wading through thick molasses. A cold sweat beads on your forehead, your fingertips tingling as numbness creeps in. Your breath comes shallow and uneven, the air suddenly thick, uncooperative. The world tilts violently—left, right, then spinning—before everything narrows into a tunnel of flickering shadows.

Then, a sharp pulse of vertigo surges through you, and your knees buckle. The pavement rushes toward you in slow motion. Darkness seeps into your vision, swallowing everything whole. But you don’t fall apart. Not yet.

Your distrust in everyone keeps you from fainting. Your mind may be a mess, but your instincts refuse to let you down. Your eyes stay open, even if they’re unbearably heavy. Your muscles remain tense, fighting against the overwhelming pull of unconsciousness. You feel the urge to collapse, but you can’t—not here, not now. You don’t trust anyone enough to let your guard down, to show weakness in a place where vulnerability could mean danger.

That is until a familiar presence steps into your fading world.

The only person your mind trusts. The only one with whom you can be weak, even if just for a second—because you know she’ll protect you.

“Shit, babe…” Abby murmurs, her voice a whisper, barely audible over the ringing in your ears. “I got you, it’s okay…”

Her arms wrap around your waist, steady and sure, giving you the permission your body desperately needs. And in that moment, everything goes blank. Your body surrenders, muscles slackening as the void finally takes over, enveloping you in a fleeting sense of peace and silence.