Rena
The sound pierces through the darkness first.
*Beep.*
*Beep.*
*Beep.*
Somewhere in the fog of my mind, irritation flickers. What is that incessant noise? Why won't it stop? The rhythm is maddening—steady, persistent, refusing to let me sink back into the comfortable nothingness.
*Beep.*
*Beep.*
*Beep.*
I try to form words, to command whatever is making that sound to cease, but my lips feel heavy, uncooperative. My tongue lies useless in my mouth. The effort sends a dull throb pulsing through my temples, and I retreat back into the haze that cushions my thoughts.
"Rena?" A voice, so faint it might be imagined. "Can you hear me?"
*Beep.*
*Beep.*
*Beep.*
The fog shifts, parts slightly. There's a pressure on my hand—fingers intertwined with mine. Warmth. Someone is holding m
