Timeline 0002: Panic.
▇▇▇▇▇▇ didn't expect to wake up after dying. No one does, really. So when ▇▇▇▇▇▇ opened their eyes, they would've been confused. If it weren't for the feeling of static in their limbs, unfeeling and throbbing all the same as if they'd been crushed.
They had, hadn't they?
Their body jolts upward, tears escape their eyes as their breathing hitches, pain clawing relentlessly into their skin and organs after the static of sleep leaves them. Everything hurts. They died. So why are they in bed? Why aren't they dead?
Realization hits faster when your brain is working to find a way to end the suffering. Of course.
Of course.
A strangled laugh escapes them despite it all. Despite the throbbing in their limbs, the feeling of empty, useless lungs trying to wrestle air in and then push it out of a body that shouldn't be working. Despite the fingers digging into their chest, desperately trying to rip the heart that shouldn't be beating out.
▇▇▇▇▇▇ had always been the cruel kind of creator. Why would they be the exception?
