He Buried Me But I Painted My Own Resurrection novel Chapter 208

In the hospital, Grant slowly drifted back from a murky sea of darkness.

His head throbbed violently, as if a hundred steel needles were repeatedly piercing his skull. As he twitched his fingers, a chorus of dull aches flared up across every inch of his body.

"Grant, you're finally awake!" A voice trembling with a mix of shock and overwhelming relief broke through the ringing in his ears.

Turning his head slightly, he saw his mother, Madeline, hovering frantically by the bed.

Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was heavily lined with exhaustion, making it painfully obvious she had spent the last few days in pure agony.

"What... happened?" His voice was nothing but a harsh rasp.

"You were in a horrible car crash. You've been unconscious for a full day and night," Madeline said, fresh tears spilling over her cheeks. "Thank God. The doctors say you don't have any major injuries, just a concussion."

A car crash?

The terrifying image of the out-of-control semi-truck and the deafening crunch of twisting metal instantly flooded Grant's mind.

He grimaced, planting his elbows on the mattress in an attempt to push himself up.

"Don't move, don't move!" Madeline panicked, immediately pressing him back down. "The doctor said you need strict bed rest."

Just then, the hospital room door swung open.

Dr. Alistair Whitaker, a middle-aged physician in a crisp white coat and gold-rimmed glasses, walked in, flanked by two nurses.

"Mr. Gauthier, you're awake." Dr. Whitaker approached the bed, his tone calm and professional. "How are you feeling?"

"My head is pounding," Grant replied tightly.

"That's a standard symptom of a concussion. A few days of proper rest will clear it up." As he spoke, Dr. Whitaker flipped through the medical chart in his hands, but a subtle frown crept onto his face.

Madeline immediately caught the shift in his expression. Her chest tightened in panic, and she quickly demanded answers.

"Dr. Whitaker, is there something else wrong? Is my son's body..."

Dr. Whitaker looked up, glancing between Madeline and the man in the bed. His expression was heavy with hesitation and profound discomfort.

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