I was flying! Free, floating in the white soft pleats of warm nothing, and nothing and nothing... No! A black fringe of reality creeping in on my wonder world of freedom in death, drawing me back into my horrid body, deformed and destroyed and no longer fit to even breath in, I can't go back! I won't go back! They can't make me, I'm finally free, even if it wasn't planned, I'm escaping to somewhere better, and I'm not even there yet! Let me go, let me be! I opened my eyes to blurry off whiteness, praying to a nameless entity that I would blink and be flying again, but I was not destined to be blessed. I suddenly realized I was in a fair amount of pain, and nearly lost consciousness again as waves of nausea passed over me, before realizing I was healing already. The wound at my neck was sealing over as I breathed, leaving what would become a neat scar like those on the rest of my body. I had always questioned my recoveries from all my various injuries, and why every cut became a tidy scar within a day.

I fully opened my eyes, allowing them to adjust to the lighting, and discovered I was on a cot, wrapped tightly in a sheet, quite efficiently bound. Several burning lamps dimly lighted the room, but I could see perfectly, as I can see as well in the dark as in full sunlight. The view from the low bed included an organized desk and drawers with a chair tucked under it, a cabinet with a lock on it, and an armchair next to the door. Stretched languidly in the armchair was, unexpectedly, the professor. I gasped, and he lazily opened one eye, saying,

"I see you are awake."