The blood on my hands infects my nose with a stream of punches from the pungent stench. I desperately want to wash it off, but I can't seem to make my legs move. Or my arms. Or anything. The frantic rush of my own blood from my panicking heart is booming in my ears, and I can't seem to silence it.

This can't really be happening. This can't be how it all ends, can it? I try not to look at the still form of the body splayed next to me, lying in a pose that would normally make her seem like she was asleep if it weren’t for the...