The world swam back into focus as if emerging from a murky pond. A sterile white ceiling, punctuated by the dull gleam of fluorescent lights, was the first canvas my eyes painted. A faint, medicinal scent clung to the air, a stark contrast to the lingering phantom of dust and dread that still prickled my skin. My eyelids felt heavy, as if weighted down by unspoken fears. A dull throb pulsed behind my temples, a rhythmic echo of the panic that had clawed its way up my throat and stolen my breath.