When Helen opened her eyes for the second time that day (or at least felt like one day; her sense of time was a little, well odd), she was not lying on the floor. Instead, she was comfortably located on one of the hospital beds.
“Finally awake?” a familiar voice said at her side. Helen turned her head and saw the woman from before, still wearing a school uniform, staring at her with her red eyes.
“Yes,” she replied, finding her voice.
“Good. Do you think you can walk?” the woman said, rising from the chair beside Helen’s bed.
“I think so,” Helen replied, swinging her legs and sitting up right. She found herself looking in a mirror.
“Ma’am?” the woman asked. “Are you still feeling disoriented?”
“Helen,” Helen responded absentmindedly.
“Right. Helen, are you still feeling disoriented?”
“Not physically,” Helen said slowly, still getting used to her voice. Her mind seemed jumbled as well. “Why are my eyes red?”
The woman looked confused. “Helen, I think you’re a bit confused. You’re dead, remember?”