I woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat.
I was struggling for breath, my hand tightened around my neck. It was so suffocating in the tiny room. I flailed off the white blanket off of me, my eyes bugging out of their sockets as I walked across the room, trying to pull at the door. It was no use as I hadn't any strength in me. Walking had been a task of its own.
I wanted to call out to Faustine. I opened my mouth to yell, but no sound came out. Only quick, heavy exhales managed to escape. I felt like I was on the brink of death.
I heard somewhere that when a person was about to die, their life's good memories flashed across their eyes in those last moments. Maybe it was a good sign that I didn't even see a single flash. All I cared about at the moment, as I laid on the wooden floor, was my life.
I desperately wanted to live.
