Chapter 38

                                    

                                          
(Please check the image for a trigger warning before continuing) 
I never understood those scenes in movies where everything turns gray after something awful happens. But now, as I sit here, surrounded by the muted chatter of nurses and the faint squeeze of my friends' hands, I get it. It's not just a metaphorical haze; it's a tangible, suffocating presence that blankets my world.
I find myself staring blankly at the sterile hospital wall, unable to tear my gaze away. I don't think I have blinked since I've been conscious. 
The pain is raw, unlike anything I have ever experienced, a relentless ache that radiates from the depths of my being. It's not just physical; it's a soul-deep agony that gnaws at me with every breath. I can't escape it, no matter how hard I try. It's like a cruel joke, this feeling of emptiness that consumes me from the inside out.
The voices around me blend into a cacophony of meaningless noise, as if I'm underwater, struggling to make out what's being said. I don't hear the words of comfort from my friends, only the echoes of my own despair reverberating in my mind. Their attempts to reach me feel distant, as if they're calling out from another dimension. But I'm trapped in my own private hell, staring blankly at the sterile hospital wall, willing it, almost betting for it to swallow me whole.
The guilt is even more suffocating, a heavy weight that presses down on my chest until I can barely breathe. I can't shake the feeling that this is somehow my fault, that I failed in the most fundamental way possible. Where did it go wrong? What did I do? The questions are endless, each one driving the knife deeper into my already shattered heart.
💔
5 hours ago
A rhythmic beeping of a machine fills my ears, and a sterile scent surrounds me. With a heavy groan, I try to blink my eyes open, but they feel like lead weights, resisting my efforts. Panic rises within me as I struggle to make sense of the situation.
As my vision slowly clears, I find myself in a bed, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and the cold, clinical environment of a recovery room. Nurses move about with purpose, their movements a blur against the barren backdrop. I try to sit up, but my limbs feel heavy and unresponsive, as if they belong to someone else.
"Where am I? What's going on?" I manage to croak out, my voice barely more than a whisper. But my words seem to get lost in the bustle of activity around me.
Desperation claws at my chest as I strain to recall how I ended up here. Was there an accident? Did something go wrong? Fear courses through me like a current, electrifying every nerve ending in my body, my heart racing.
Suddenly, one of the nurses notices my distress and rushes over to my side. She offers me a gentle smile and a reassuring touch, but her presence was not a comforting anchor in the mass of uncertainty. It only freaked me out more.
What is happening?
"It's okay, it's okay. Please lay down." she says softly, her voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. "You're in the hospital. You just had surgery, that's why we put you in a recovery room. You'll get a private one once the doctor does another check-up."
Surgery? The word hangs in the air like a heavy shroud, sending a shiver down my spine. Memories begin to trickle back, fragmented and disjointed, like pieces of a puzzle slowly falling into place. Me, puking in the dirty bathroom. The girls bursting in, the ambulance ride... It's all a big blur. 
''S-surgery?'' My voice is barely loud enough for me to hear, let alone the nurse on the end of my bed with all the coughing and screaming patients surrounding us.