Struggling from the deepest pit of darkness, Trixie tried to open her eyes.

“Ms. Whizanos, you’re awake. Let me get the doctor,” a female voice said.

What the hell are you talking about? I’m Trixie Halloway. She tried to focus. Everything was blurry. She attempted to speak, but something was in her throat, and she couldn’t open her mouth. A figure stood beside her bed, and another shadowy figure approached, but she wasn’t able to discern much. It was as if sticky fluid blurred her vision.

“Ms. Whizanos, I’m doctor Jenkins. Can you hear me? Just blink if you can,” a male voice asked.

Trixie blinked, trying hard to concentrate on the shadows beside her. Something was hampering her from speaking. Something was in her mouth, down her throat. She couldn’t even swallow.

“Nurse, remove the intubation,” the male voice ordered.

She gagged as the nurse pulled whatever it was slowly from her throat. Another person, she presumed it was also a nurse, shoved something under her chin as she gagged, coughed, retched, and puked. So I am in a hospital. All I remember is watching my body getting zipped into that body bag. How is it that I am lying here in a hospital bed? Oh my God! My face! There was nothing left of it! The memory of the corpse floated like a series of slides through her mind. She gagged again as she visualized her intestines spilling from her torn gut, her face that had been ripped off, her lovely natural blonde hair dripping with blood hanging from her broken skull.

“Take your time, Ms. Whizanos,” the male voice said with a soothing tone. “You have been in a coma for more than a month. It will take a bit for you to fully recover, for your vocal cords to heal. Rest now. We will try and talk again in a few days.”

Footsteps. The doctor and nurses were gone, and she was alone with her thoughts.