Page 1 of Loving London

Loïc

“The utter horror of it all comes back in agonizing clarity. Cooper’s gone.”

—Loïc Berkeley

Heaviness weighs on me, pressing my lungs flat. I can’t breathe. Panic rises within as a war with fear begins.

It’s so dark.

Where am I?

It smells but not of earth and sweat. It reeks of chemicals and sanitation—rubbing alcohol maybe.

My chest expands as I pull in air, and it brings torture, a shooting sharp pain to my ribs. I stop inhaling deeply and focus on taking short and shallow breaths.

What’s happening to me?

Where am I?

I try to open my eyes, but it becomes way more difficult than it should be. Why won’t they open? I mentally instruct my brain to make my eyes open, and I wait.

Open.

Open.

Open.

Nothing happens.

Fuck.

A stabbing agony shoots through my body, starting at my head and spreading downward. The ache in my leg burns so fiercely that I know I’m dying. A pain this great can’t be sustained. I scream a hollow, tortured cry, but no sound explodes from me. In fact, I can’t hear anything at all.

And the pain…it’s just too much.

It’s more than I can stand.

I’m dying.

I clench my teeth together and bear down, trying to hold on, to sustain through the anguish.

But I can’t.

I’m not strong enough.

I know it’s over—life is leaving me—but as darkness pulls me under, I’m grateful for the release.

“Lieutenant Berkeley, can you hear me?” a male voice asks.

It takes me a moment to register the words. I sluggishly open my eyes but force them closed again. The intrusive light hurts.

“Sir?” he questions again.

Breathing deep, I open my eyes again, even more cautiously, allowing them to acclimate to the brightness that surrounds me.

I blink and then blink again.

Scanning the room, I realize I’m in a hospital.What happened?

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