Have you ever had those mornings when you wake up in a daze, your head's in a mess while you slowly separate fact from fiction? The dream loses hold over you and you start to remember just what the hell you were doing. It eventually all clicks into place.
Well, I had such a day two years ago, the only difference, it didn't click into place. The feeling that my memories would come rushing back any second was extremely real, except they never did. The ceiling above my head was still unfamiliar and so was the knife, still dripping with fresh blood in my hand.
I could feel the sickly sweet smell of blood permeating the room as the dried substance stuck to my body. Following the trail, I chanced upon the corpse of a small boy. He had been mutilated badly and had his heart ripped out. As I turned his body over I saw his immature face calm and devoid of emotion.
I on the other hand was the absolute opposite of calm. For even though I couldn't remember who the corpse belonged to, I knew from the gut-wrenching feeling and the bile running up my esophagus that he was no stranger, but someone I cared about. Yet, the knife in my hand indicated that I was probably the murderer.
I could feel the panic slowly building up inside of me, threatening to burst forth and overwhelm in a moment's time, but in the brief respite before the terror set in me, I was still in a state of shock and adrenaline that allowed me to stay in a hyper-conscious. I could hear a car come to a stop outside the building which meant I would have company soon.
I didn't have much time, I didn't know who I was, where I was, and what was I doing. Was I a murderer? If so why did I kill this boy? Why do I feel so sad while looking at his face? What I did know was that I didn't want to get caught next to his body with the murder weapon in my hand.
Not wasting a second, I messed up the surroundings to make it look like a break-in and stabbed myself 3 times in the gut leaving the knife in place.
I dragged myself to the door and spread my blood all over the handle before collapsing onto the ground.
The blood started to leak from my insides at an alarming rate and my head started to grow faint. I didn't know who I was, where I was, or what I was doing, what I did know was that I was really pissed at whoever was responsible for my current situation, and whoever that was would have hell to pay.
I heard the door opening as panicked footsteps approached me.
"Luke! LUKE! Are you ok! Are you fine! WH-WHo did this to you... Let me call an ambulance fast..."
Huh....so that was my name, was it? Luke.....
"Where's James? Is he fine?"
The voice receded into the distance before falling into a dead silence, probably having discovered the corpse.
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
What followed was a gut-wrenching scream full of pain and sorrow that seemed to come from the very pits of hell, and then I lost consciousness.