Darkness. Then, a strange lightness.
I was... floating?
The pain was gone. The smoke, the heat, all vanished.
I looked down.
My body was still there, amidst the burning debris of the rehab room.
Small. Charred.
But I wasn' t in it.
I remembered being Captain Sarah Miller. Decorated. Respected.
I remembered leading my SWAT team into impossible situations, always bringing them back.
Brave, they called me. A leader.
My city gave me awards. My officers, their loyalty.
I remembered the bank hostage crisis.
Gunfire, screams, the acrid smell of gunpowder.
Mark, my partner then, pinned down, a clear shot for the last gunman.
I didn' t think. I moved.
Pushed him clear, took the bullets meant for him.
They ripped through my spine.
The world went black then too, for a while.
When I woke up, the doctors told me. "Paralyzed. Waist down. You' ll never walk again."
Mark was there. His face etched with guilt, with a strange kind of awe.
He' d been promoted to Captain. My old post.
He sat by my bedside for weeks.
"I owe you my life, Sarah," he' d said, his voice thick.
"I' ll take care of you. Always. I swear it."
He proposed a month later.
A quiet ceremony.
He vowed to protect me, to cherish me, for life.
His gratitude felt heavy, like a debt he could never repay.
But I loved him. Or I thought I did.
I believed his vow.
Now, watching my own funeral pyre, his words echoed.
"Protect you for life."
Lies. All lies.