Toby was hurt. Badly. This happened often, since he couldn't feel pain, but never so bad that he had slipped into a coma. He had been in it for a few months, and you didn't think he'd ever wake up. You had stopped visiting him—it hurt too much. You couldn't live without him. So, you stepped to the edge of the balcony in the manor, ready to plummet. The last thing you expected to hear was Toby's voice behind you. "Wh-What are you d-doing?" he asked. He was... awake?