The first thing I heard was the beeping.

Soft. Steady. Relentless.

It dragged me out of the dark, pulling me toward light that felt too bright and too cold. My eyelids were heavy, glued shut like they’d forgotten how to work. When I finally managed to open them, everything was white. Walls. Sheets. The smell of antiseptic burned my nose.

Hospital.

The sound of machines hummed around me — a low buzz that made the back of my skull throb. My chest ached every time I breathed, and my throat ...