Grit settled on her skin. A gust of wind blew past, sweeping her messy hair across her face. It was a little itchy, with a faint tingling sensation.
Evelyn Ford opened her eyes to a blurry world. Her eyelashes trembled as dust fell into them. She wanted to raise a hand to rub her eyes, but her limbs ached too much to move. She closed them, and the grit scraping across her eyeballs instantly forced out tears.
A few minutes later, feeling began to return to her body. She tried to move her limbs, struggling to sit up from the ground. She wanted to get water from her space to wash her face, but she was too weak; her consciousness couldn't enter it. Evelyn tried many times, finally clenching her jaw and focusing all her attention to pull a bucket of water from her space. Just as she was about to wash her face, she saw the dense network of open wounds and the thick layer of grime on her hands. Evelyn froze for a moment.
