4
I think I’m dead.
Wait. Would I be in this much pain if I were dead?
Probably not.
Maybe I’m just dying.
I scrunch my eyes closed in an effort to dull the roaring pain that unleashes itself inside my skull every time I move.
I’m serious. I just twitched my big toe and it felt like a knife driving into my brain.
It takes a minute, but I register that I must be in bed. I can feel the pillow under my head, the blankets bunched around my waist. I try to remember the last thing I was doing before waking with what feels like a ten-pound weight on my head. I feel like I’m Wile E Coyote and the Roadrunner just dropped the safe on me.
After what could be a few minutes, or maybe an hour—I’m really not sure—I brave opening my eyes. Slowly my eyelids peel apart and thank God for small favors
