Kimberly
Everything was blurry.
Not the kind of blur that comes from sleep, but a deeper fog—a thickness that clung to my limbs, my lashes, my lungs. Breathing felt like dragging a heavy weight through a tunnel.
Voices floated around me like whispers in water. Calm but urgent. Male. Female. The clinking of metal. The rustle of fabric. Something cold pressed against my wrist.
Where am I?
My heart surged before my eyes could open. Panic pushed against the fog, and suddenly everything sharpened with terrifying clarity.
I was in a bed. Soft. Clean. Surrounded.
Doctors. Four, maybe five. I couldn’t tell. Their white coats moved around me in synchronized motion, their brows drawn in concentration as they murmured measurements, vitals, and dosages.
My instinct screamed to sit up, to ask—
