I woke to a blinding whiteness that made my eyes ache, sheets stiff and unfamiliar against my skin, the smell of antiseptic sharp in my nose, every muscle screaming in pain, every bone heavy and uncooperative, my throat dry, lips cracked, tongue thick, mind swimming in fog, trying to remember where I was, how I got here, the memory of the road, the jeep, the lights, the voices, my body trembling as reality slowly returned, I blinked against the harsh fluorescent glow, the steady beeping of a monitor, the hiss of machines, the low murmur of voices somewhere down the hall, confusion and fear twisting in my chest, panic rising as I realized I was alone, there was no one in the room, no family, no familiar presence, only the sterile smell, the crisp sheets, the hospital gown uncomfortable against my skin, I tried to move, felt the heaviness of IV lines in my arm, the stiffness of a neck brace or padding, heart racing, mind scrambling, and then the door opened, a soft click, and a woman in scrubs entered, carrying a clipboard, her expression professional but gentle, she paused, noticing me stirring, "Good morning, I'm Nurse Patricia, how are you feeling?" she asked, voice calm, soothing, yet every word reminded me of how fragile and small I felt, I tried to speak, voice croaky, raw, barely audible, "Where… am I?" she smiled gently, "You're at Saint Alphonsus Regional Medical Center, you've been brought here after a serious wilderness survival situation, you've been dehydrated, exhausted, and you're safe now," I tried to sit up, body trembling violently, she gently pressed me back, "Take it easy, your body needs rest, we've been monitoring you, you're stable," I swallowed, throat dry, mind racing, "My… family…?" she hesitated, flipping through her clipboard, "We haven't been able to contact anyone yet, but you're safe, you're alive, that's what matters right now," panic twisted into relief, the impossible truth settling slowly, I was alive, after weeks in the wilderness, after starvation, exhaustion, fear, terror, loneliness, I was alive, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, throat tight, body trembling, every scar, scratch, and bruise, every ache, every exhaustion, every step on that endless road culminating in this sterile, bright, alive room, and then the door opened again, louder this time, a rush of footsteps, a voice I knew before I saw her, "ALICE!" and I turned my head, heart leaping, chest tightening, and there she was, Reese, my best friend, running into the room, eyes wide, tears streaming, hair messy, clothes rumpled from whatever frantic sprint brought her here, "Alice!" she screamed, and it wasn't a whisper, it wasn't careful, it was everything, raw, desperate, filled with relief and fear, and I tried to speak, croaky, weak, voice barely audible, "Reese…" and suddenly she was there, arms around me, pulling me up slightly, crying, shaking, and I couldn't help myself, tears spilling down my cheeks, choking, trembling, exhaustion and relief and joy and grief all mingling, I reached up, hugging her back as best I could, body weak, muscles still trembling, "I thought… I thought I lost you," she sobbed, voice breaking, and I felt it too, the weight of everything I'd endured, the months of survival, the loneliness, the terror, the endless green, the roads, the mountains, the rivers, the cold, the hunger, the thirst, all of it crashing together, and I sobbed too, voice breaking, tears flowing freely, the nurse standing back, giving us space, waiting, watching, allowing the raw, messy humanity of the moment to exist, and I clung to Reese, clung like a lifeline, heartbeat pounding, body trembling, mind still foggy from exhaustion, but somehow, miraculously, impossibly, I was here, alive, and someone I loved was here with me, holding me, crying with me, and for the first time in weeks, maybe months, I could breathe without fear, without terror, without the gnawing hopelessness that had been my constant companion, I let myself be held, let myself cry, let myself feel every emotion, every relief, every terror, every loss, every gain, every exhaustion, every pain, all mingling and washing over me as Reese whispered my name, and I whispered hers back, and the sterile whiteness of the hospital room didn't matter, nor the monitors, nor the IVs, nor the aches, nor the bruises, all that mattered was that I was here, alive, and she was here, alive, and the world, even outside that window, even beyond the walls, even beyond the mountains and forests that had tested me to the edge of everything, was still out there, and somehow, impossibly, I had survived, and now I could rest, I could breathe, I could cry, I could be held, and I did, letting every ounce of fear and hope and relief wash through me, trembling, sobbing, alive
