Grace
The world around her was nothing but a blinding white. At first, it felt as if she were suspended in emptiness, lost in some strange void. But as her lashes fluttered and her eyes adjusted, the whiteness began to take shape. Slowly, squares appeared—tiny speckled patterns connecting together like a net above her. It took a long, heavy breath for Grace to understand what she was staring at. A ceiling. A drop tile ceiling, the kind that belonged in a hospital.
Her gaze drifted downward. She was lying on a stiff hospital bed, her body pressed against sheets that smelled faintly of disinfectant. But beneath that sterile scent, her own clothes clung to her, reeking of smoke, dried blood, and sweat. The odor was sharp, enough to wrinkle her nose and make her throat tighten.
Then came a
