My mind races as I stare at Logan lying on the floor, blood pooling around him. It’s like a nightmare. 

The room spins, and I grab onto the edge of the table for support, trying to steady myself. 

I should do something—call for help, scream, anything—but my body won’t move. I’m frozen, watching helplessly as the man I just told I hated clings to life.

"Logan..." I whisper, my voice trembling. He doesn’t respond; his eyes are barely open, and his breath is shallow. 

Panic sets in as I realize how dire the situation is. I drop to my knees beside him, my hands hovering over his chest, unsure of...