The floor of death

I am a sufferer
I am in a hot oven
There is
Sweat in each pore
I am afraid to breathe
Having tasted gas
These eyes are shut tight
And my mouth pursed
As I wheeze
my first memory emerges
A child in a cradle
Bashed and beaten
At the last minute
The oven is opened
And I fall out onto  
The floor of death