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“I need you to calm down,” says his father’s voice, steady and deep and soothing. “Listen to me, son. I need you to calm down and let your chroma do the work. Do you hear me? Don’t fight it. Let it heal you.” A pause. “Let her heal you.”
The words reach him as if through a thick layer of water. Verso tries to follow the instructions — to calm down, how is he supposed to calm down when there is a hole in his chest?! — and fails at that, the only result another wheezing sound — a wordless plea for all of this to stop.
He’d begged his father if he could — if he had the voice. He’d begged him to make it stop.
Or: 5 times Renoir told Verso to let his wounds heal and the 1 time Verso didn't listen.