It wasn’t proshchay. Just as I pulled out the IV, the chaotic energy inside faded, leaving me so drained I could only cover my mouth as tears poured down my cheeks. I ignored the sharp throb in my stomach. A machine began to beep, alerting me to the fact a nurse would be in here soon, but I didn’t expect a dog. Khaos jumped on the bed and lay down beside me. Sobbing, I ran my hand through his fur, hugged him tight, and said, “It isn’t proshchay . . .”
