The sharp, sterile sting of antiseptic filled Eliana Bennett's nose, dragging her back from the abyss like a hook through smoke. Consciousness returned slowly—clumsily—like it had to fight its way through thick fog. Her eyelids fluttered against the weight of exhaustion, her vision swimming in a dizzy collage of white walls, blinking monitors, and the steady beep of machines that sounded far too close to a countdown.
Pain hit next—raw and unforgiving. A sharp throb pulsed in her ribs with every shallow breath, and her right hand felt like dead weight, tightly bound in stiff bandages. She lay still, her body aching in places she hadn't known could ache, while above her, a harsh fluorescent light bathed everything in a clinical glow.
Her lungs caught on a breath, her chest rising shakily as the memories slammed into her like she was reliving the accident.
Screeching tires.
Blinding headlights.
The sickening crunch of metal.
The pavement lunging up like a fist.
