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In the weeks that followed, the night terrors didn't seize

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In the weeks that followed, the night terrors didn't seize.

A thick, white bank of fog hovered over the darkest parts of Janie's brain nearly 24/7. Part of why it was such a scary thing was the smokiness, so thick and heavy, clouding the memories that only seemed to surface her in her sleep.

Janie would wake up in the middle of the night confused when she noticed the hospital room she'd been in looked distorted. Several corners of the sterile, safe environment she had come to know for the last several weeks had been replaced for the basement where it all happened. 

The swinging light from the ceiling, the rolling table with rusty screwdrivers and handsaws, the bright red filing cabinets that almost fell apart, and the moldy paper clippings that hung limply out of the drawers.

She was able to tell those moments weren't real, because reaching out to touch the rotting flowers on her nightstand or the get-well cards that crawled with bugs didn't work. Instead, her fingers would slip right through them. it was a bone-chilling experience every time.

She couldn't remember faces, because the men in her room at night didn't have any, they were just swirly flesh tones, like how marbles sometimes had swirls of green or blue that reflected sunlight beautifully when you rolled them on the pavement.

She couldn't remember their actions but could feel pain and tears, white-hot and almost constant like a blinding, aching migraine after looking into the sun for too long.

She couldn't fight back when the men began to hurt her, because her movements were slowed down and heavy, like trying to thread through quicksand or thick, wet mud or a sludgy swamp. It was infuriating, terrifying, and disheartening all at the same time, but there was nothing she could do.

Never before did Janie think that dreams could feel so incredibly real. 

"You're not listening," Jack, her surgeon (they were on first name basis for some reason), waved his metal clipboard in front of her eyes, "Are you sleeping okay?"

Janie had to suppress a yawn, "I'm fine. Just a bit tired." She lied through gritted teeth.

"I suppose it's not uncommon to have trouble sleeping, especially considering your physical state. I'll see if they can prescribe you anything to help you sleep better."

"More pills?" She asked, "I'm already taking seven each morning, four in the afternoons, and two at night."

"It's nothing too serious, but it is very important for you to rest as much as possible while your body tries to heal itself. It can't do that if you're up all night tossing and turning."

"Trust me doc, there's not much tossing and turning going on. I can barely move as it is," she grumbled.

"I just came in to check up on you," he said, "but I think we might have to go in for another surgery."

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