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I’m falling.

Head over feet over head over feet. I can’t breathe. I can’t see because wind and dust force me to keep my eyes shut. I can’t think and, worst of all, I can’t stop myself. I’ve never been so out of control in my life.

My body crashes against rock, bounces before I can get a grip on anything, and rolls. I’m in the air again, falling, tumbling as my arm cracks against a ledge and bends back toward my face the wrong direction. I have to stop this.

I won’t let it kill me.

Forcing my eyes open, I watch my surroundings, all of them growing closer to me as I fall. As I near another slope, I straighten my legs, keeping my knees springy to brace for impact. Instead of crashing, I land on my feet. Then I topple to my side as the bones in my legs crack and shred my skin.

I scream so loud that no sound comes out of my mouth. Raw pain in my throat tells me I’ve probably been screaming this whole time. Something sharp lodges in my side and I roll out of the way, an effort that makes my feet disappear. Big mistake.

The sharpness in my side gives way to another agonizing fall. My back cracks against a ledge as I roll, crashing like a ragdoll into rocks and ledges on my decent. My feet sway wildly in the wind. Instinct makes me kick to find a ledge for support. But all kicking does is re-break my shattered ankle and send me into another spiral through the air.

I don’t know which way is up. Until my face smashes into the ground. The dirt in my mouth is a welcome sign that I’m finally on a solid surface. I open my eyes and scramble to my knees, finding myself at the opening to a small cave. In the dark, my blurry night vision shows me that it’s about as deep as I am tall. It’s probably tall enough for me to stand—if I could stand. It is a perfect Maci-sized cave.

My ankle writhes in pain as the bones stitch themselves back together, slower than before. I drag my body on my elbows toward the cave. I want to be as far away from that damned ledge as possible. The power in my chest pulsates with the rhythm of my breathing, wild and out of control.

My forehead drags the ground as I inch myself further into the cave. I stop when my hands touch the back of the cave. My body sinks to the ground and my cheek rests on the cool rocky ground. Stars fill my vision when my attempts to inhale a deep breath come out as hyperventilating. I grit my teeth and concentrate on breathing slowly through my nose, an effort that requires pushing back all thoughts of pain and focusing only on breathing.

Something warm sticks to my face. I lift my head and the warmth flows over my cheeks and into my mouth. Blood. Spitting the coppery taste mixed with dirt onto the ground, I try to sit up. Vertigo sweeps over me. My hand reaches shakily to my scalp, fingers trailing from my hairline to middle of my head.

Cold terror fills my chest as my fingers touch the side of my skull. Not my scalp, but my skull. I am missing a piece of my head. Oh god.

My stomach convulses and acidic liquid shoots up my throat. I shudder as vomit spews all over the floor of my Maci-shaped cave. I cough and hurl until nothing comes up anymore and then the dry heaving lasts for another five minutes. My only coherent thought is that I hope my own brain doesn’t fall out.

I’m on my hands and knees when the vomiting stops. My broken arm and ankle have healed. They are so stiff I can’t move them. My skull is another story.

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Although bones heal themselves, I’m not sure if my head will heal when a big chunk is missing. My vision blurs as a disturbing thought comes to mind: If I find the piece, maybe I could put it back.

A shudder ripples through me at how completely gross this is. But my hands pat around the ground anyhow, passing over blood and puke and dirt and rocks. None of the rocks are shaped like a piece of my skull.

Panic rises in my chest—a feeling I have only read about until today. My heart races, forcing more blood out of my gaping wound, my fingers tighten and my chest constricts. I’m going to die here.

Not if I have anything to do with it.

Power rises in my chest, pulsating through my shoulders and into my arms and legs. This power is what keeps me alive and it will heal me. I press my hands against my chest and feel them fill with an internal fire. With a deep breath, I close my eyes and press my hands to my forehead. Power trickles into my skin, tickling my nose and raising the hairs on my neck. This isn’t enough. My thoughts are chaotic. I must take control.

My hands press harder against my head. My chest heaves with a deep breath as I force the power to drain from my toes and up through my body, pushing it from my fingertips into my head.

A soothing sensation tingles through my scalp. My body goes delightfully numb, leaving just a prickle as if it lost circulation.

A smile tugs at my lips as I pull more power out of my chest and force it to my fingertips. My scalp knits itself together first and then my skull vibrates, making my vision blur and my ears ring as my head grows more bone to replace what it lost. My breathing is steady, my fingers focused, my mind clear.

My eardrums crack as my hearing goes from reckless echoes to sharp and crystal clear. I let out the breath I’d been holding and climb to my feet. I smile, fists gripped tightly by my side as I hobble out of the cave and stare at the vast canyon before me. It tried to take my life. But it failed.

And I succeeded.

The stars fade to black and I collapse.

“She’s coming to.” A woman’s voice. She’s coming to. What does that even mean? What am I coming to? I’m not doing anything. Loud taps across the floor as someone walks across the room. Shuffling sounds—like maybe a rolling cart? My eyelids open just enough to catch a blast of white light before snapping tightly closed.

“There you go, hun. It’s safe now.” A soothing voice and a pat on my shoulder. The footsteps again, quieter as she walks away.

A shiver ripples through my body. It’s cold in here. My hands twist together under a thin sheet. I lift my head but a wave of pain sends it straight back to the pillow. Such a soft, squishy pillow. The overhead light is bright enough to make me squint even with my eyelids clenched tightly shut.

Someone clears their throat in the opposite direction of the woman’s voice. Dread weighs me down as I realize I’m not alone. That bothers me more than not knowing where I am or what I’m doing. My head rolls to the right. “Who are you?”