CRY OR BETTER YET, BEG
I tried again, but my arms trembled, and I fell back against the bed with a quiet, irritated exhale.
Pathetic.
Venom watched the entire thing without moving.
“…You’re weaker than I expected,” she said.
“Then your expectations were stupid,” I shot back.
The doctor cleared his throat nervously, adjusting something beside me.
“You need rest. Absolute rest. Any strain could reopen—”
“Get out.”
Venom ordered him.
The doctor froze.
“I—I should at least—”
“Out,” Venom repeated this time, not even raising her voice.
That was enough.
The doctor didn’t argue again. He packed up quickly, casting one last worried glance at me before leaving the chamber.