There was pain. A lot of it. I was like a single small boat on the surface of a raging ocean, and the cost to stay afloat almost made me bankrupt, which, in a way, means dead.
The first thing different from my desperate struggle was a feeling. It was very faint, but also very different from all the desperation and helplessness. Then it morphed itself into something else. A thought. A thought which became a word.
"Peter", echoed in my mind.
- Peter - I repeated. - Peter?
"Peter", echoed again.
This time I didn't repeat my name. I still concentrated on it, though.
"Wish to live. Wish to get healed", the same voice, as it became stronger, spoke to me again.
- Wish to get better? - I asked. - Yes. I want the pain to go away. I want to get better. I want to get healed.
Surprise, surprise... It did work. I gasped for air, and my eyes opened wide, to get immediately closed as the cold, silver, light blinded me. A loud groan left my mouth.
