I woke up confused and in pain—which, to be honest, I really should have been used to by this point.

It was immediately apparent though that this wasn’t just an ordinary morning of feeling crappy. For one, if the ceiling was any indication, I wasn’t in my bed, which was more than slightly alarming. Waking up to the same view from the same bed for nearly six years had given me a sense of comforting routine, and the mornings when I woke up on Erid covered with sweat terrified I was back on the Hail Mary had become few and far between.

At first, the confusion overruled the pain. That, or the nerves in my body took a bit longer than I did to wake up. When the pain did hit though, it was like I’d taken a sledgehammer directly to the chest, which was odd since that seemed like something I should probably remember happening. I tried not to make a habit of things like that if I could help it.

Trying to pull myself together, I took in a deep breath and quickly regretted it as the pain exploded.

Ah, okay then. No breathing. Got it. I’ll just suffocate then. Great. Solid plan.

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