There were flecks of light on the ceiling. Laying on my back, as I was, it was easy to see them dance across the popcorn flecks. Shards of broken mirror were all around, it wouldn't have been a problem to cut myself further, had I wanted to. No. For the moment, laying here was enough.
Why was I laying there? The last thing I could remember was the glass: cutting, ripping, and shining. Sparkling on the walls, the wood varnish of the furniture, and finally gleaming faintly on the ceiling.
The light was changing now. Changing hues from pure white to a rosy tone. My eyes were so heavy, but I had to keep them open. Why did my head hurt so much? Blinking hard, alligator tears ran thickly down my face, mixing with the blood on the floor. Trying to move my hands was harder than I thought. It disturbed the glass on the floor, and drove the pieces still embedded in my skin a little deeper. Moving my head was harder still, and within moments of starting the movement, the world went scarlet with pain. Then nothing for a long time.
White light was everywhere now. Beautiful and blinding. There was something else too. A soft, rhythmic beeping.
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