Chapter 3

Burning. Shivering. Fevered.

I clench my teeth, trying to stop the shaking, cold to my bones but sweat soaks my brow. It trickles down the side of my face.

Darkness surrounds me.

I'm in a bed. Is it mine?

Something cool is pressed against my forehead, and I think I make a groaning noise, except it feels like fire in my throat. The noise quiets to a whimper, and then there's only more darkness.

My eyes flutter open again, heavy. There is no concept of time. Only pain.

Starchy cotton scratches my tender skin. My feet hurt, but my legs are restless. Every time I try to move, there's more bitterness, and then everything turns fuzzy once more.

Night and day.

Day and night.

I can't grasp…anything.

How did I end up in this wretched state? But my thoughts are elusive, slipping through the fog that clouds my mind.

Fragments of memories flit around me like wayward fireflies, darting in and out of reach. There was a sense of urgency, a desperate need to find something... or someone…do something maybe?

As the fever rages on, my body is tender with a deep-rooted weariness. It's as though I have been navigating treacherous terrain for an eternity. Boggy terrain that does its best to drag me down. My muscles protest any movement, agonising aches demanding respite from the torment I am enduring. And yet, some invisible force propels me forward, urging me not to succumb.

Don't give up, something whispers in the darkness.

The room itself is suffused with an eerie stillness, broken only by the faint echo of distant footsteps and the occasional muffled conversation that seeps through the walls.

Where is she? Why has she not come to me? Why do I feel so alone?

The air hangs heavy with the scent of antiseptic, mingled with a trace of decay. More dead plants. More dying flowers.

With each passing segment of indeterminate time, I grow more desperate.

A flicker of determination ignites within me. Why can't I remember? Why is everything so fuzzy, like it's covered in a strange film? Where am I?

Summoning every ounce of strength I have, I clench my fists and push myself until I'm upright. The world spins violently as I rise from the bed, sheets tangled around my legs, and nausea washes over me like raging waves crashing against jagged rocks. Blinking away tears, I focus on the bleakness of my surroundings.

Familiar, but darker somehow. There's no light peeking through the drapes, and the air is heavy with the stale stench of sweat and something else.

The flowers on the nightstand are dead. Where did they come from? They remind me of a funeral. But whose?

I want to open the curtains. I need to know if it's day or night. Need to drink in the moon or soak up the sun. I need…something.

I move three paces then wince.

My vision swims, as pain stabs through my head.

I hit the hard floor.

Hands lift me.

Helping?

Soft covers.

But I'm too hot.

Water against my lips. Tastes funny.

Feeble attempts to fight.

Held down.

Tears. Hot and angry.

Hands stroking my hair.

Then darkness once more.