I woke to the sterile hum of fluorescent lights and the faint antiseptic scent of a hospital room. My head throbbed, my body aching with every small movement. My arm was strapped to my chest, immobilized in a sling. A dull pain radiated from my shoulder, sharp and unyielding. My collarbone—I must've broken it.

I turned my head slightly, the movement slow and stiff. Ridge was sitting in the chair beside my bed, his elbows resting on his knees. His face was pale, drawn with exhaustion, but his eyes lit up as they met mine.

"You're awake," he said quietly, leaning forward. His voice was hoarse, the dark circles under his eyes evidence that he hadn't slept.

I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, the words catching painfully. Ridge noticed immediately, reaching for a cup of water on the bedside table. He held it out to me, his movements careful, as if he was afraid I might shatter.

I sipped the water slowly, the cool liquid soothing my raw throat. "Amber..." My voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

Ridge's face went slack before he shook his head. The shift in his expression was subtle but devastating. My stomach twisted, a faint hope snuffed out as quickly as it had ignited.

I closed my eyes, my face crumpling as a sob tore through me. The pain in my shoulder flared, but it was nothing compared to the ache clawing at my chest. I'd hoped—hoped maybe she wasn't dead, that my first thought as I came to might be true. Maybe I hadn't checked for a pulse properly. I'd only ever seen it done on television, after all.

Amber's face flashed in my mind, her lifeless eyes staring into nothing, her matted hair clinging to her damp skin. The memory slammed into me with brutal force, and I couldn't stop the wave of nausea that followed. The weight of leaving her behind crushed me, suffocating and inescapable.

Ridge set the cup down, his fingers brushing against my hand. He began rubbing gentle circles with his thumb, his touch steady despite the tension in his own posture.

"You're so stupid," he said softly, but there was no malice behind his words. "Why would you run off like that?"

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, brushing my hair away from my face. His lips lingered for a moment, and I felt the warmth of him, grounding me even as my thoughts spiraled.

The memory began to surface, jagged and fragmented. The forest. The rain. Turner. My chest tightened as the images flashed through my mind. My body instinctively curled inward, as though shielding itself from the onslaught.

"Sam..." Ridge's voice broke through the fog, low and steady. His hand hovered near mine again, hesitant. "You're safe now."

Safe. The word felt hollow, its meaning warped by the weight of everything that had happened. I couldn't stop the tremor that ran through me, the ache in my shoulder sharp as I tried to shift away from the memories clawing at the edges of my mind. The sling rubbed against my skin, a constant reminder of just how close I'd come to not making it out.

Ridge didn't speak for a moment. When I looked at him, his face was taut, his jaw clenched as though holding back words that might shatter the fragile calm in the room. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice heavy with something unspoken.

I turned my head away, the lump in my throat making it impossible to respond. The pain in my shoulder was distant now, overshadowed by the suffocating grief pressing down on me. I stared at the ceiling, my tears slipping sideways into my hair.

Ridge shifted in the chair, leaning forward, his hands clasped tightly. "The police... they're waiting to talk to you," he said after a moment. His voice was flat, but there was an edge to it, restrained and careful. "When you're ready. Campbell and Frank are here; they went to the cafeteria for coffee."

I nodded faintly, though the thought of recounting everything felt impossible. My chest ached with the weight of the words I couldn't bring myself to say. The silence between us stretched thin, punctuated only by the hum of the hospital room and the faint beeping of the monitor. Ridge didn't press me further. He sat beside me, steady and unobtrusive, the space between us heavy with the things we couldn't put into words.

"You scared the hell out of me," Ridge said, his voice trembling slightly. "You're so smart, but also... I still stand by you being stupid."

His tone was soft, not demanding a reply. He was trying to draw me out of the haze I was trapped in, but I couldn't meet his eyes. My mind kept replaying Amber slumped and broken in the cave. I'd just left her. She was dead because of me.

"Everything's my fault," I whispered, not looking at him. My voice cracked, the words splintering into the stillness.

"Sam," he murmured, standing and stepping closer to me. His hands hovered for a moment before brushing against mine again. "It's his doing, not yours, Sam. You did all you could."

"Did I?" I questioned, my voice trembling as I looked at him. Tears brimmed in my eyes, threatening to spill over. "I left her there. I didn't—I should have done more."

Ridge leant over the bars of the hospital bed, his expression taut with frustration and sorrow. "You fought harder than anyone could have expected. You got out. You survived. Don't let him take more from you."

His words settled over me, but the guilt was relentless, gnawing at the edges of his reassurance. Amber's face wouldn't leave my mind, her silence filling every moment with unbearable regret.

There was a knock at the door, and Frank stepped in, followed closely by Campbell. Frank's face was lined with worry, his eyes scanning me as if to make sure I was really there. "Is it okay that I'm here?" he asked hesitantly, his voice quiet.

I nodded, my voice shaky. "Yeah. It's okay."

He came closer, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides. Campbell, standing at the foot of the bed, gave me a small nod. Her expression was as professional as ever, but her eyes held a softness.

"You're lucky," she said, her tone brisk but not unkind. "You shouldn't have gone off on your own like that and taking that boy's phone on the bus. Smart. Reckless, but smart."

I nodded my chest still heavy with grief 

"Well, it worked," Campbell said, her voice lighter. "The boy and the bus driver reported it. They thought there was something wrong, or you'd lost your mind, yelling your name the way you did the boy isn't going to press charges for you assaulting him either. It was smart using the emergency thing on his phone too" 

Ridge squeezed my hand, his lips quirking into a small smile. "See? Smart but stupid."

Frank stood nervously by the far wall his eyes looking over my face but he didn't speak he looked almost scared. 

"I'll need to take a proper statement in a day or two but for right now, please rest" Campbell gave a nod and then left the room. 

The door clicked shut behind Campbell, leaving a quiet hum in the air. Frank lingered near the far wall, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He looked at me like he wanted to say something, but the words were stuck somewhere between his throat and his chest.

Ridge had sat backdown by my side, his fingers  brushing faint circles over my hand. He glanced at Frank, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

"You've been pacing outside this room for hours. Might as well say something now." Ridge squeezed my hand lightly as he said this. 

Frank gave a nervous chuckle, the sound awkward and strained. His gaze flicked to me, and for a moment, his shoulders squared like he'd found the courage to speak. Then he hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line as he took a step forward. "I... I'm just glad you're okay," he said finally, his voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot.

I offered him a faint smile, my throat too raw for words. My chest felt heavy, the grief and exhaustion pressing down on me like a weight I couldn't shake. I wanted to say something back—to tell him I was okay, or at least I would be—but the words wouldn't come.

Frank shifted awkwardly on his feet, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. He glanced at the floor, then back at me, his jaw tightening as though he was holding something back. 

"You scared the life outta me, y'know," he muttered, his voice rough but steady. "Didn't think I'd be standing here... seeing you like this."

I swallowed hard, guilt tugging at me. "I—"

"Don't." He cut me off with a firm shake of his head, his tone softening as his eyes met mine. "Don't go sayin' sorry. You've got nothin' to be sorry for, alright?" His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat as if to cover it. "I'm just glad you're here, kid. That's all that matters."

He rubbed at his eye quickly, the motion almost too quick, like he didn't want me to notice. "If you need anything—anything at all—Ridge has my number. Maybe..." He hesitated, his voice dropping slightly. "Maybe you could give me a call sometime."

The corner of his mouth twitched in a faint, hopeful smile,  

"Anyway," he said, slapping his hands together and nodding toward the window. "I'll leave you two to it."

He turned to leave, his hand gripping the door handle. My chest ached at the sight of him retreating, and before I could second-guess myself, I called out weakly, "Frank."

He stopped immediately, turning back to me, his expression unreadable but cautious. "Yeah?"

I took a shaky breath, my voice barely audible. "Maybe... when I'm out of the hospital, we could go for a coffee."

For a moment, he didn't move, like the words had stunned him. Then his face softened, his eyes lighting up in a way that broke my heart. "Yeah." His voice was low, steady. "Yeah, we could do that."

He lingered a second longer, his hand still on the door handle, before nodding and slipping out of the room. The door clicked softly shut behind him, leaving a silence that felt heavier than before.