What was that?

The experience felt familiar, somehow, as if I’d gone through it before. Did I fall asleep? No, I was aware in the slumber, in control to an extent, and it didn’t feel like a dream. It was not drugs either, I’ve been a year clean and a replase would have finished me off. It was different from a trance too, it felt almost… magic.

Magic. With that thought, I now know what to look for. It takes a bit of concentration, and some real effort to put the pieces back in order, for fragments of the memories to be unearthed. Piecemeal glimpses of moments gone by; a hunt gone bad, knee-deep in blood, pilling debt, and my pockets too light to pay it off. My brothers and sister wounded, the squad at the backfoot, and me at my wit's end. I had to exert myself, push my limits, and suffer the consequences. Now it makes sense. Power never comes without a price.

As the memories come back, so does the pain. There are a few square pieces of gauge stacked on top of each other and adhered to my stomach, even after my swim. I can feel the same on my back, making me believe the wound had to be especially grizzly. Though for specifics, I guess I should ask somebody else.