ISLA~
The harsh, sterile scent of antiseptic was the first thing that clawed its way back into my senses, burning the back of my throat.
Everything was heavy. My eyelids felt like lead, sealed shut by an exhaustion so bone-deep it felt like gravity itself was trying to pull me down through the mattress. When I finally managed to pry them open, the world was a smeared, blinding blur of harsh white lights and overhead tiles.
My head throbbed—a dull, rhythmic pulse behind my temples that brought a wave of nausea with it. Poison. The realization hit me in slow, icy trickles. The metallic taste of copper and chemical decay still lingered on my tongue. I tried to lift my arm, but my body refused to obey, my limbs feeling as detached as if they belonged to someone else. My breathing was shallow, hitched against the rhythm of a heart monitor ticking somewhere to my right.
Then, through the ringing in my ears, a voice broke the quiet.
"I bet you're not happy to see me here."
