The agony pulsed harder now, a deep, searing ache that burrowed behind my eyes.
It wasn't just pain—it was memory. A cruel, familiar echo.
It felt like the days I'd spent in the hospital, battling the creeping rot of brain cancer—the dull electric storm that used to rage behind my temples, the splitting nausea that made every breath feel like punishment.
My pulse quickened.
Panic threaded through my chest before I could smother it. No.
It couldn't be that. It couldn't have returned.
But the pain didn't care about my denial. It kept building, crawling through my nerves like fire.
And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pain stopped.
It didn't fade—it snapped out of existence, leaving behind only the echo of its intensity and the dull ringing in my ears.
