Carmen
Before I even opened my eyes, I could feel my head. But instead of sitting where it should have been, balanced on my shoulders, it felt wrong—too large, too heavy, like an entire building had been placed there and I was somehow just the foundation holding it up.
There was a dull, persistent hammering that seemed to travel through my skull in slow, punishing waves. It hurt, but strangely, not in the way I expected. It was as if my mind recognized the pain but refused to fully register it as unbearable.
The rest of my body felt distant, muted, like I had been submerged deep beneath water and was only just beginning to be pulled back to the surface. Every sensation came slowly, thick and delayed, as though it had to fight its way through layers before reaching me.
Still, I forced my eyes open.
