Darkness.
A darkness that had weight, that pressed against my skin like water pressing against a drowning man's chest.
I could not feel my body.
I could not feel my arms or my legs or my heart beating in my chest. There was no up or down, no left or right, no beginning or end. Just darkness. Endless, suffocating, absolute.
Where am I?
The thought came slow, like honey dripping from a spoon, thick and heavy. I tried to move. Nothing happened. I tried to speak. My lips did not respond. I tried to open my eyes—were my eyes already open?
...And saw nothing.
Then, I felt a presence. Somewhere in the gloom, something was watching me. Every instinct I had developed over months of fighting screamed at me:
Do not move. Do not breathe. Do not let it know you are awake.
But it already knew.
The darkness shifted. It shifted like something alive, something that had been waiting in this place for a very long time and had finally found what it was waiting for.
