The first sound Eliza heard was an intermittent beep.
Sharp. Constant.
Then, the distant murmur of voices, the monotonous hum of fluorescent lights, and the unmistakable smell of disinfectant mixed with freshly washed sheets.
She blinked slowly.
The white clarity hurt her for a moment, as if she had been in darkness for too long.
The sterile ceiling, the smooth walls, the coldness of the air conditioning... everything felt foreign. Unreal.
She tried to move, but the weight on her chest stopped her. A weak, irregular heartbeat mixed with the beeping of the machine next to her bed.
—Eliza? —a trembling voice broke the silence.
She turned her head, and her eyes met those of her mother. Nicole Marie watched her with desperate love and fear that filtered through each breath. Her face was pale, her lips chapped, and her smudged makeup revealed traces of tears.
