The room was quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that brought peace—but the kind that pressed down, heavy and suffocating, filling every corner with something unspoken.
It was morning.
Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, soft and warm, but it didn’t reach her.
Emma lay awake on the narrow hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling above her. The white light felt too harsh, too real, yet she couldn’t bring herself to look away.
Her left leg was immobilized in a cast, heavy and foreign, while a tight bandage wrapped around her head, dulling everything into a distant haze.
Faint bruises marked her face and trailed along her hands—visible reminders of something violent, something she couldn’t fully remember.
But none of it registered the way it should have. There was no sharp pai
