Phoebe slowly stirred and groaned. Her head was pounding and a dull, uncomfortable pain rippled outwards from her midsection. The metallic scent of gore coated the inside of her nose. Gore which was slowly mixing with fresh air. Fresh air, crows cawing, flickers of sunlight on her face... Phoebe realized that it was no longer nighttime. She also realized that she was no longer dead.
For a moment, she wondered if everything--the college acceptance letter, the leaving home, the attack--had all been another dream of death. But as she turned her head Phoebe saw that all the fresh air and outside noise was coming from an open window. The scenery in this room was the familiar scenery of the train, and the mattress she was resting on was one of the cabin beds. There was a thin blanket draped over her mostly-bare skin, and when Phoebe lifted it up she saw that a large portion of her chest and stomach were wrapped in bandages.
She leaned over the edge and threw up.
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