DOMINIC
I came awake with a violent gasp, my lungs burning like I'd been underwater too long.
My eyes flew open, heavy and wide, darting across the dark, silent hallway.
Phantom pressure gripped my wrists, the ache sharp as if restraints had just been torn away. My chest felt crushed beneath an invisible weight. I couldn't breathe properly, like the air itself was pressing down on me.
Harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow across pale tiled floors. The air was cold, thin, laced with antiseptic and something metallic. Blood.
A hospital? I was still here.
I flexed my fingers against the armrest beneath me, trying to ground myself. The chill from the seat seeped through my clothes.
And the smell—God, that smell. Antiseptic and bleach. Pungent, suffocating. It clawed up my nose and wrapped itself around my brain, dragging me deeper into the memory I wasn't ready to face.
