I opened my eyes in the small shack I've been calling home the last week. Sunlight shone over my face as I sat up, feeling worse than the previous night.

I missed air conditioning and my soft bed. This... straw didn't even compare.

Sitting up, I splashed my face with the murky water I had saved from the last few days. It was more to wake me up than to clean my dirty face.

This last week had been hell for me. It was hell before it even began. To think I died once already. I don't even know why, or who did it. I just remember a hand on my back, shoving me into the street. A loud horn later, and I'm here.

Bolting me from my thoughts, the wooden door clacked loudly as someone hit it.

"Get up you filthy bastard. It's time."