The scent of isopropyl alcohol and fresh copper hung heavy in the air of the corridor, a nauseating combination that clung to the back of my throat. I stood leaning heavily against the pristine white wall of the intensive care unit, my breaths shallow, ragged, and whistling slightly through my fractured ribs. Each micro-movement of my chest felt as though someone were driving a rusted nail into my lung, but I refused to slide back down to the floor.Two state police officers, their expressions hardened by years of dealing with the city’s worst, had their hands locked under Bryan Lockhart’s armpits. They weren't being gentle. His pristine leather shoes dragged uselessly along the polished tile, leaving a faint, dark smear where his frantic heels tried to find traction."Ethan! You can't do this to me!" Bryan shrieked, his voice cracking into a high, pathetic register that bounced off the glass panes of the surrounding patient rooms. A thick string of saliva and blood trailed from his s