All there is is black. All noise muffled and distant. The darkness presses in around you, carrying you, weightless. You're not sure if you even have a body anymore.
You see red. Smooth hands pull your limbs roughly. They are moving you. You distinctly remember a great fear leave you as you died.
A great light bares down through your thin eyelids and you know yellow again. Sounds wash over your ears like a shower of thumbtacks. Everything seems so bright and insane now.
They -- *someone* has laid you on the table, is helping you breathe, is cleaning the blood from your skin.
You manage to crack one eye open and take in the stark white slate of the world. A young man, younger than you, cuts the umbilical cord and smiles.
You're so afraid now, because something's gone wrong. You cry weakly for the first time, but no words make it out.
You weren't supposed to *remember.*