Yet again, I was waking up.
And yet again, it wasn’t in my own bed with Daniel holding me close. Instead, there was an annoying beeping sound, rhythmic and shrill, cutting through the fog in my mind. I was lying on my back—which was wrong. I never slept on my back.
Everything felt off.
My head was fuzzy, like I was floating, like the world was spinning ever so slightly around me. It reminded me of that night in college when I tried smoking weed for the first time—had too much, ended up sprawled out on the damp grass, staring at the stars. Kenneth—the guy who’d brought the weed—had laid down next to me, whispering in my ear that I wasn't going to die.
But I wasn’t in college.
And Kenneth wasn’t here.
I swallowed, my throat burning like sandpaper, and tried to force out a sound. “Danie
