You’re heavy eyelids flutter open, a soft light that you’re not used to present in the room. Everything feels quiet— almost reverent— nothing like the whirring of machinery or the shouts of angry men out for blood. Everything hurts. You move just barely and pain is suddenly buzzing alive in every one of your nerves and muscles. A soft groan is pulled out of you, and that’s when you feel a stirring at your bedside. You don’t really recognize where you are or the bed you lie on. For a moment you give into the panic of the unknown, until the prescence beside you reaches out, and a low voice you recognize quiets you. “Hey, sweetheart.” Warm, gentle hand on your shoulder. “Easy now, it’s me.”