I opened my eyes slowly, the world swimming into focus like a lens adjusting in thick fog. A white ceiling stretched above me, crowned by an ornate chandelier that caught the low light in crystal glints. It was too elegant for a hospital, too clinical for a bedroom. My awareness returned in jagged fragments, first the ceiling, then the dull throb behind my eyes, then the ache that radiated through my bones like echoes of distant thunder.
The air felt unnaturally light, filtered and sterile, yet every breath scraped against my lungs with a quiet burn. My body lay heavy on the bed, sheets crisp beneath me, but my mind drifted, unanchored. Pain pulsed in my arms, sharp and insistent, a reminder that something had gone terribly wrong. I tried to swallow, but my throat was parched, raw as sand
