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TRAPPED. DARK. ALONE.
Jags tried to move. He tried to sit up. He tried to talk.
A tingling, burning sensation gnawed at every inch of his sweaty skin.
A woman leaned over him. Her blurred face faded into view. Beautiful, waist-length, white hair. And that familiar smile. His mother. He had no memory of her. She had died of cancer when he was only three, but somehow he knew this angelic being as his mother.
Jags reached for her and she disappeared. Leaving him . . .
Trapped.
Dark.
Alone.
Then he heard her voice.