12
Everything felt soft and sharp. She lay on needled feathers, while feathered needles pierced her brain. A great cloud enveloped her thoughts so that all existence was pain, and comfort, and horror, and bliss…
Muted nothingness. She screamed in darkness, floating on calm clouds.
Her eyes drifted open, body aching. She could see light. Blurry.
White light. Warm light.
The room and the sun.
Yes… morning…
White. The room, that was white. Or the ceiling, at least.
Distant chattering drifted, machines beeping.
Murky.
She wanted to move her head, but could hardly move her eyes.
Fingers. They were beside her, resting… on something soft but firm. A bed?
Yes… she was on a bed.
She tried to move her fingers. Nothing.
Images flashed through her mind, of birthdays, sleeping, parents, t
