I remember things and events. We both do. He assumed the pain was good. Pain meant he, we, was still alive. I opened our eyes, gummed by having spent so long unconscious. Blinking away the residue, we tried to push ourselves upright. Almost immediately, we fell back, exhausted, barely able to do more than turn our collective head.
Strength was returning. I could feel it slowly building in our muscles. Some of the stiffness was from lying still for so long. There was a clang of metal on metal. The restraints were loose but present. The bed was a sturdy one, it seemed. And I recognized the walls and flat ceiling. I'd been here a few times because of injury and for the annual physical examinations and medical checks. It was warm and reasonably comfortable.