Antiseptic was the first thing I smelled.
The pine, woodsmoke, and blood from the cabin were gone.
A heart monitor beeped beside me in a steady rhythm.
I forced open my eyelids. A textured white ceiling came into focus. A plastic tube ran beneath my nose, and a blanket covered my body.
I was in a hospital bed.
A woman in blue scrubs saw me move and came to the bed. She checked the oxygen tube, then touched my shoulder.
“You're awake. Don't try to talk yet. You've been unconscious for a long time.”
My fingers moved under the blanket. I was alive.
She checked the monitor. “You were in a serious bus accident three months ago. You've been in a coma since then. We didn't know whether you would wake up.”
Three months. The cabin had taken only seven days.
My throat burned around one wor
