My leg hurt.
When I first got stabbed, I assumed I'd bleed to death if I somehow survived the assault. Apparently, that wasn't the case.
White room, white ceiling, even white bedsheet. But I wasn't in a hospital. This place looked far too nice and quiet to be a hospital. Who keeps cream curtains?
A decent bed, a chair, a table, and a carpet. This room looked rather minimalistic.
My feet had bandage so I was seen by a doctor at least. And they'd done a good job of cleaning my body off too.
Once I was fat and plump and now, I was fat and wrinkly. My excess skin just hung in its former glory. I was still quite fat but yeah.
No saline or blood. I guess I didn't need much.
Someone stood at the door. I could see the shadow. I could feel…
