Chapter 109: Hospital

Consciousness didn’t return all at once.

It seeped back. Like a venomous slurry oozing through cracks in the asphalt, it rose slowly, sickeningly, filling every hollow space inside me with a leaden weight that made me crave the sweet oblivion of the void.

I wasn’t waking up so much as drowning in a sticky, gurgling mire of agony and raw terror—diving back under the surface of unconsciousness like a drowning creature in an oil slick, surfacing for only a fraction of a second to gasp in the stench before going under again.

An endless, swaying vibration rocked me. I was lying flat on my back, and every hard bump echoed through my bones with a dull, sickening thud, turning my stomach and twisting my internal organs into a tight, agonizing knot.

The ceiling above wasn’t a solid surface at all, but a shifting canvas of filthy light and jagged shadows. Overhead fixtures flickered like demonic embers, burning slow, yellow streaks into my retinas.

They sliced through the dark, and in those torn gaps hovered something sinister—something so unnatural it made me want to squeeze my eyes shut and never open them again.

My mouth tasted of an old, rusted coin held beneath the tongue for days on end. My mouth was completely numb from the vile flavor, yet it only grew thicker and heavier with every breath.

It was the taste of rancid fear—a thick, bitter bile coating my tongue, mingling with something metallic and sweet...

Blood, most likely, from my cracked and bleeding lips. And sweat. A cold, salty sweat trickled down my temples and neck, merging with something slick on my skin. Tears or blood—I couldn’t tell the difference anymore. My entire body had become one continuous, agonizing wound.

I fought to draw a single breath. My mind—driven by pure, primal survival—thrashed in wild panic, clinging to a singular, desperate command:

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

But instead of air, a freezing liquid seemed to flood my lungs. Every ragged inhale felt as though I were being submerged in a bucket of ice water filled with rusted nails—scraping my throat from the inside, tearing my airway apart, leaving me with nothing but pitiful, strangled gasps.

The breath never ended in a clean exhale, but in a low, rattling gurgle deep within my chest, as if something vital had ruptured inside me, drowning my lungs from within.

Exhaling was even more agonizing. My ribcage felt pinned in a crushing vise, squeezing out the last drops of my life with a strained, whistling hiss that rang deafeningly in my ears.

Voices.

They drifted all around me like underwater demons—distorted, meaningless, as though filtering through layers of murky water.

"...lost too much..."

"...veins... can’t find a vein..."

"...it’s too late..."

I couldn’t make out the words. I only heard their tone. Detached, professionally indifferent—like butchers at a slaughterhouse casually agreeing that the carcass was already ruined and there was nothing left to be done.

They weren’t speaking to me. They were speaking about me. And that was far more terrifying than any scream, because their voices held zero hope—only a cold, medical statement of fact. She’s dying, and there’s nothing more we can do.

Then the movement abruptly ceased. The world jolted and ground to a halt. In that sudden silence, I heard the faint, erratic thud of my own heart—sluggish, uneven, as if it were seconds away from stopping forever.

The doors burst open with a harsh metal screech that set my teeth on edge, and the bitter night air rushed inside, reeking of exhaust, wet asphalt, and... ozone. Like the aftermath of a thunderstorm that had never happened.

They yanked me out of that metal coffin. Hands seized me so roughly that something popped in my shoulder, sending a sharp, slicing pain down my arm. But even that agony felt dull and distant—as if it were happening to someone else entirely.

The world dissolved into a blinding, dizzying blur. Streetlights, the moon, dark windows—everything smeared into a single gray stain tinged with a bloody crimson haze, making it impossible to tell up from down. I was a ragdoll thrown into a centrifuge, spinning out of control and breaking apart at the seams.

Someone ripped the mask off my face with violent force, snapping the elastic band so hard it whipped against the back of my head, leaving a burning sting. Immediately, as if on cue, my lungs collapsed completely.

Air didn’t just become scarce—it vanished entirely. That pitiful trickle of oxygen I had been desperately clinging to was stolen, torn out of my chest, leaving only a suffocating, leaden weight pressing down on my sternum. I couldn’t even manage a wet gasp anymore. I could only open my mouth silently, desperate for air, as numbness crept into my face and my fingers involuntarily curled into claws, tearing at the empty air.

"Do something, dammit! She’s choking!"

That voice.

It shattered the rising hum in my ears like a blade tearing through fabric—sharp, piercing, striking a chord of raw panic within me. My paralyzed nerves jolt-started at the sound, rattled by the sheer, primal fury pulsing behind it. Deep, husky, and saturated with pure beastly threat, it was the kind of voice that made every instinct scream to hide, even though I had no idea who was speaking.

"Sir, put her down! Why did you grab her?!" came a shrill, frantic reply—a female nurse’s voice quivering with panic.

"If she dies right now, I’ll bury every single one of you with her, fuck!"

I was shoved down onto something hard, narrow, and ice-cold. Metal springs groaned beneath me. The sharp, suffocating stench of rubbing alcohol and bleach slammed into my nose, momentarily overpowering the sweet, coppery smell of blood.

A hospital.

The realization reached me from somewhere far away, as if it had nothing to do with me. The room reeked of death. A sterile, hospital kind of death—the kind where they lay you out on a gurney, pull a white sheet over your face, and wheel you away because you’re no longer a person, just a body.

Silence.

For one fleeting second, an icy, absolute quiet fell over the chaotic room, as though the whole world held its breath. His threat hung in the air—tangible, thick as the scent of fresh blood. I could feel the medical staff freeze in terror around us, knowing those weren’t empty words.

It was an oath. A promise of absolute carnage if my heart dared to take its final beat.