Universal

Atticus's eyes flickered open, and his gaze landed on a pure white ceiling. It was unfamiliar.

'Shit…'

His vision was blurry, and although he could tell the ceiling was white and unfamiliar, he couldn't make out much else around him.

'I'm on a bed?… And there's someone here.' Atticus thought.

He felt the soft touch of the bed beneath him and the warmth of a hand holding his arm.

The warmth was familiar, so familiar that Atticus could never forget it, not even if the world were ending.

He instantly tried to sit up, fighting through the intense pain that surged through his body.

The hand holding his arm tightened, and Atticus could feel it, the happiness radiating around the room. It was intense.

Atticus's blurry vision prevented him from clearly seeing the person, but he didn't need to. He already knew.

"M-mom?"

Without warning, he found himself enveloped in a hug so warm it felt like it could melt anything.