Pain.
That's all I feel.
Dominating every nerve in my body.

Taking hold of my senses.

My breathing shallow and ragged, like I had forgotten how.

Is my heart even beating?

Are my eyes open? No. Yes? All I perceive is darkness.
And the agony, pulsing in my head, tearing through my neck, burning down my spine.
A flicker of hysteria rushes through my head as I realize that I can't feel my limbs nor my extremities.
A strained cry slips from my throat.

All of my senses are dulled.

I take great effort to focus on my breathing, and with the movement of my chest, I realize I'm covered by fabric.
I can't be in a bed. Too cold, too dark.
Am I here alone?

I can't hear anything. Focusing on my other senses helps cut through the pain searing through my flesh.

My mouth is so dry, I try to swallow.
Throat and jaw sear like a white hot poker.

Aside from the bitter cold filling my nostrils, the scent of antiseptic wafts across them.

All senses accounted for, rational thoughts start to formulate.

Smells clean.
Too clean.

A hospital?
Too cold.

Morgue?

At the realization, my body spasms with panic. No control, just involuntary. Another try, only my arms. Sore, but not agonizing like the rest.
Feeling outward, making contact with cold metal confirms my suspicions.

Why...why am I here?
How did I get here?

I feel short of breath, slowly reaching up to pull the sheet from my face, immediately regretting the wave of freezing air replacing it.

How will I get out?

A large clacking breaks through the silence. I strain to lift my head, pain ripping through my neck, vision blacks out briefly.

Don't do that.

I listen to distant footsteps drawing closer, then metal against metal, one voice speaks, indistinguishable through the thick hatch.

How long have I been in here?
I want out.

Just as I open my aching jaw to cry out and hasten my escape, the footfalls draw near, followed by the click of the latch by my head.

Light pours in, I squint momentarily.
I'm unceremoniously pulled out of the compartment as one would the crisper drawer in their refrigerator. I gaze around briefly before taking in the visage of my savior. As my waking eyes meet his own, I watch as a mix of confusion, horror and fear jumble onto his face. He stumbles backward, clattering against the autopsy table, knocking the recorder he was no doubt speaking to earlier onto the floor.

The din further irritates my throbbing headache. I hear the man hyperventilating as he shuffles apprehensively back into my field of vision. A breath catches in his throat, choking briefly as he confirms that I am indeed alive, breathing and blinking. He stutters out in a whimper, "Y-you're su-supposed to be...dead!"

With great, painstaking effort, I turn my head towards him, managing a few, well-chosen words.

"You've made a mistake."

The corner of my mouth curls into a smile as any trace of fear seems to leave the man. "Yes, I've made a mistake."

A/N: Ok, so as soon as I finished the season Finale, I had a little headcanon pop into my twisted brain. This is the product.

I'm glad to see that there are a couple other similar ideas out there, but I thought it would be a bit more dramatic had he woken up in the morgue alone. Especially if it was from a first-person POV, and you weren't entirely aware of what was happening or who this was. From a TV perspective, that is.

So anyways, my thoughts stemmed from the idea that I just can't accept that snapping his neck would completely kill him. I mean he just got a massive amount of KilgraveDNA stem cells(*cough*Purple Children*cough*) shot into his spinal cord. STEM CELLS. I mean, if that doesn't scream "accelerated healing" or even "unbreakable spine", then I don't know what would. But yeah, all I can say is your move Netflix/ABC, your move.