the medical report is out.
"how are you standing right now?" medic asks, horror splashed across their face. it feels like a dream.
vertigo hooks its claws in whumpee's side and makes them sway. they try grabbing at the nearest fixure— which is caretaker. but no, touching only gets them hurt. the next nearest thing is the stool. they miss.
I'm not, they think blearily before pain eclipses their reality. they'd be laughing if they weren't unconscious.
















