where am i

where am i

Eyes open.
I see the interior of a car door, it’s shape dismantled by whatever sudden impact had struck it all the while I had slept. Or been awake. Some sort of light is shining on it, but I refrain from looking up to see where this heavenly luminescence hails from. There’s a sharp pain in the center of my forehead, and at first I attempt to reach up to feel for a wound, but my arm immediately sears with pain, not willing to move. Broken.
Eyes close.
I feel something encrusted around the corner of my eye. I make a wincing face, feeling it crack upon my skin, also sensing it trailing down my forehead and my cheek. Dried blood, I thought. No, I knew. I could tell from the taste in my mouth; I didn’t even want to open my eyes to see what surrounded me, other than the remains of something I can’t remember, but still know is just about as bad as it can be.

Every breath I breathe in seems to be harder to accomplish, like I actually have to think about breathing in order for it to be done. Every single inch I move during each breath seems painful, most likely because it is painful, but it’s hard to tell. I almost feel numb, feeling so much physical pain at once, and I just want to go back to sleep. No, not back to sleep; I was never asleep. I was unconscious.

Tears begin to swell up in my eyes, begging me to cry, but I manage to fight it back. Not that it’s a good thing to hold it back, but in this situation I just want peace. I don’t want to hear the sounds of my own weeping, the sounds of me growing weaker than I have already become. With this sense of exhaustion, I also feel that crying might just make me feel the urge to vomit. I can imagine it in my head, vomiting my own blood all over the place, eventually drowning in it as it continues to flow, nonstop.

I cough. My chest is overwhelmed with a burning sensation, as if someone within my body is lighting candles inside of me, somewhere deep beneath my skin. It’s almost as if I could feel the bone,...