His vision was nothing but blur and static—like someone had smeared Vaseline over his eyes and then cranked the tinnitus to max. His whole body pulsed with pain, every breath tasting like dirt and copper. A cough slipped out, sharp and weak.
This was the second time something like this had happened to him in the same day. How fortunate. At this rate, dying again was going to start feeling like a nap.
"Ugh…" Finn spat, forcing himself to sit up. His ears kept cutting in and out like a bad Bluetooth connection. He smacked the side of his head a few times.
'Come on, stupid ears—work! I can't afford a time where I can't hear!'
The ringing finally began to fade, replaced by something far worse—screaming. Shouting. Crying. It sounded like a missile had landed in a crowded neighborhood, and Finn was the unlucky survivor who had to process it all.
As his hearing cleared, so did his sight—and that's when he noticed it.
A shadow.
