Pain throbbed in my head, deep and dull, as I blinked awake, trying to make sense of where I was.
My body felt heavy like I was sinking into the bed beneath me. Slowly, as if wading through thick fog, I began to gather fragments of consciousness, each one bringing with it another flash of pain.
I raised a trembling hand, brushing my hair away from my face, rubbing the last bits of sleep from my eyes, trying to push through the ache suffusing every muscle.
The ceiling above me was unfamiliar in its starkness. I focused on it for a few seconds, letting my vision sharpen, my brain working to piece together what had happened.
And then, like a flood breaking through a dam, memories began to crash into me with terrifying clarity—the basement, the metallic scent of blood, the cold, lifeless body.
The shock was paralyzing, each image more vivid, more suffocating than the last.
