I'll go ahead and warn you that this one is lame.

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Waking up to rhythmic beeping and the steady flow of air through a tube was like something from a movie. Morena expected to open her eyes and find herself in her room after having a strange nightmare.

Morena opened her eyes to an ugly tile ceiling, the kind that public buildings, like hospitals, used. Her eyelids were heavy, threatening to close again as she gathered the strength to look around, and her chest felt tight. Pain racked her body as she craned her neck to look around, throbbing like she had just gotten hurt.

There was an EKG machine next to her and an intravenous drip that she assumed was attached to her arm. Her reflection in the bed rails showed her a warped version of her face. Bandages covered her face, and her hair looked shorter, shorter than it had been in her last memory, which was her eating ice cream while watching a movie. She also wore an oxygen mask.

Morena had no memory of what had happened to her. Part of her was annoyed, but another part of her felt relieved. She had a feeling she was better off having no memory of it at all.

There was suddenly a flurry of motion around her. Doctors and nurses talked to her, talked to each other about her, but her eyes were too heavy, her brain too foggy. She fell unconscious before she could talk to them.