His body felt as if it had been stuffed into pitch-black cement, his limbs cold and heavy, unable to lift even a finger.
Consciousness was veiled by a thin layer of gauze, blurring his sense of the outside world. His brain had lost control over his body; ears, eyes, skin, fingers – each part seemed to no longer belong to him, and he was unable to manipulate them.
He didn't know how much time had passed before Norris Moore finally heard sounds from the outside world. His fingers twitched slightly, and then, as if his soul had finally returned to its rightful place, he sensed a slight breath of life.
The breath carried a strong scent of rust; he knew it was the blood flowing from his body.
His head throbbed unbearably, the pain spreading throughout his limbs, leaving not a single part that didn't ache.
He remembered being assaulted; he had hit someone with his car, and that person had brutally smashed the back of his head with a stone.
Norris Moore slowly opened his eyes.
