!! !!CONTENT WARNING!! !!

The following chapter contains depictions of medical imagery, vomiting, blood, and self harm.

Her eye fluttered open slowly as she woke up from a deep sleep. Her mind was fuzzy, and she felt sick. She was lying in an uncomfortable bed, with unfamiliar sheets and blankets, tucked around her tightly enough to feel suffocating. Her throat was parched and dry, and her head pounded like she'd just smashed her head against a surface. Something was embedded in her arm.

Hospital. She was in a hospital. It was black outside, the only light coming from the flickering red glow of the emergency lighting above the windows. Was the power out? The room was dark, the curtains drawn. There was a television in the corner, dead and dusty, the faint reflection of herself looked back at her.

Marisa looked around for something she owned, a phone, a wallet, anything, but nothing was to be found. She rolled over, trying to find a comfortable position on the bed as she considered just going back to sleep. Her body felt stiff and sore, and she could feel her muscles ached as she tried to stretch.

Eventually, she struggled to her feet, nearly falling over before catching herself against the wall. She was lightheaded. Her skin felt limp. The IV bag holder she was attached to bumped against her, and she held on. Her legs dragged limply across the floor as she staggered to the bathroom, where she splashed her face with water and rubbed her eyes roughly.

Eyes. Eye?

The mirror reflected back a girl with bandages across her face, covering the location her right eye was. 

The location her right eye should be. Her neck was covered in a similar way, a brown crust forming in the areas where she tried to rip open her own throat.

Flecks of dried blood still remained under her fingernails.

Marisa started breathing heavily.

She couldn't calm herself down.

Her head still hurt.

Her head still pounded.

Her stomach was a pit.

She looked in the mirror again.

She saw the glass embedded in her eye.

The blood streaming down her face.

The tearing across her neck.

The vomit around her mouth.

The floor around her.

She looked at the floor.

The world reflected viscera.

She ran out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, hyperventilating as she collapsed to her knees and violently expelled her gut on the floor. There was nothing in her stomach. It was just bile and acid. She breathed heavily as she heaved and coughed, her body shaking fiercely as she tried to regain her composure.

She took a moment to catch her breath.

And she started to cry.