ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN.

The familiar smell of harsh disinfectant overwhelms my senses, as is the sensation of my body being as delicate as a feather, gliding through the air without a care in the world.

I peel my eyes open; the room is dimly illuminated, with the sole source of light coming from the fluorescent lamps.

Turning my head to the left, I am met with a large window that I have seen many times before. The walls covered in medical posters are a dead giveaway as well.

I'm in the damn hospital!

Again.

Looking to my right, I see Doctor Cameron lying down in the bed next to me with his phone in his hand.

I clear my throat, “what are you doing lying about when you're meant to be treating people?” I say sarcastically, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

He chuckles, putting his phone down. “I was helping to treat you, kid.” He replies thickly, with a concerned look on his face. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, you know, like utter shit with a capital S,” I mutter as I fight to keep my eyes open and releas