Cyrus
I raised my bowling ball of a head higher, trying to get it stationary on top of my neck as it followed gravity and continued to drop. The black spots were cloudy as my vision slowly dissipated, and I blinked, helping the gorgeous face in front of me to come into focus.
Imogen wore a tight frown as she watched me warily. A second passed and then another and then a third before she nodded once and lifted a small water bottle to my lips.
"Take sips of this if you can," she said, trying to tip the bottle back to make it easier.
My head tumbled like I tried to hit a split at the bowling alley.
"Whoa, don’t go too fast," she said, sounding like she was talking to a child. Memories of her cleaning my wound and then using a long needle to stitch it closed resurfaced.