**Turbulent Reckoning**

As I looked up at Hange, I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me, and my stomach churned with a growing sense of nausea. The room around me began to spin, and I felt myself swaying, my body trembling with a growing intensity. Hange's eyes locked onto mine, and I saw a flash of concern etched on his face. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and urgent, as he pulled me closer to his chest. I tried to speak, but my voice was hoarse and barely audible. I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead, and my body began to shiver uncontrollably. Hange's hands moved over me, checking my temperature, and I knew I was in trouble. "Baby, you're burning up," he whispered, his voice laced with panic. "We need to get you to a hospital, now." I nodded, or at least I tried to, but my body felt like lead, and my head was spinning. I was aware of Hange lifting me into his arms, and I felt a jolt of pain as my body was jostled against his chest. As we moved through the darkness, I was acutely aware of the pounding of my heart, the rush of blood through my veins, and the searing pain in my head. I was trapped in a living nightmare, and I couldn't wake up. Hange's voice was a steady presence, a reassuring calm in the midst of the storm. "I've got you, baby. I've got you. Just hang in there, okay?" But I couldn't hang in there. I was drowning in a sea of fever and fear, and I couldn't find a lifeline. Everything was crashing down around me, and I was powerless to stop it. As we burst through the front door, I saw a blur of lights and colors, and I heard the sound of sirens in the distance. Hange was shouting, his voice carrying over the din, and I felt myself being laid down on a cold, hard surface. The last thing I remembered was Hange's face, etched with worry and fear, before everything went black. When I came to, I was in a hospital room, surrounded by beeping machines and sterile white walls. Hange was sitting beside me, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep, his face etched with exhaustion. "Welcome back," he whispered, his voice barely audible. I tried to speak, but my throat was dry and scratchy. Hange handed me a glass of water, and I took a sip, feeling the cool liquid soothe my parched throat. "What happened?" I asked, my voice weak and hoarse. Hange's eyes locked onto mine, filled with a deep concern. "You had a severe sensory overload, baby. It triggered a high fever, and I got you to the hospital just in time. The doctors say you're going to be okay, but you need to rest and recover." I nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. But as I looked at Hange, I knew that this was just the beginning of a long and difficult road to recovery. And I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to come, that the storm that had been brewing inside me was far from over.