Saint Fury - 1. Saint Fury

There was another monstrous firestorm approaching on the horizon and I could already feel the tremors caused by the devastating roars of thunder. I had almost made it to the last house that I hadn't searched for supplies yet, but now I didn't have a choice, I needed to get back to my refuge before the air was set ablaze again. I wasn't angry about it though, because I had less than three days worth of food and water left, so no matter what I would find in that one remaining house on the hill, it was the end of the road for me.

The valley I had been stranded in was surrounded by giant mountains too steep to climb and the tunnel that connected it to the rest of the world had collapsed, burying every chance to escape under countless tons of immovable rubble. In the center there was a very small village, comprised of merely a dozen houses on each side of the main road that led to the one on the hill. Nothing alive was to be found here, only a hand full of dried up creeks and rivers, some withered bushes and trees and otherwise just long stretches of barren desert in every direction. All the dead vegetation, the ground and the buildings were charred and covered in black grime and both the sky and the sun were always hidden behind clouds so dark that it was difficult to tell whether it was day or night.

I just stood there in the middle of the village for a minute and stared at that house on the hill, towering above everything else, like a judge in a court room, eager to rule and condemn me to a life-sentence.

As I shook my head I noticed a tear dripping off my face and swiftly evaporating on its way down. The first month I almost couldn't bare the pain of existing in this nightmarish hell-hole, the feeling of getting incinerated from the inside out with every breath I had to take, my body burning and the way I was being transformed into a blistered and scarred shadow of who I once was. Letting myself die wasn't an option though, because I hadn't earned the right to join my son in the hereafter yet.

My memories of him were still vivid, but I had been tormented by his absence for such a long time now that it had emotionally bled me dry and if it hadn't been for the occasional tear reminding me, I would've forgotten that I was ever capable of feeling anything at all.

While I was thinking about him I inhaled deeply, started to cough really hard and a few seconds later I collapsed. By the time I was opening my eyes again the storm had reached the village and before I could find my bearings a bolt of lightning struck near me, the electricity surged through the ground and connected with my body, making all my muscles spasm. I was about to gasp, but quickly covered my mouth and nose with both hands to stop myself from breathing in the thick, glowing ashes floating in the air. I let the panic wane for a moment and then I put on my mask and goggles, jumped to my feet and started to run.

The constant shock waves of the blaring thunder-roars and the excruciatingly bright flashes of lightning were obscuring my vision, but it didn't care, because I knew this hellish place like the back of my hand and even welcomed walking it blind.

All of a sudden I stumbled and fell, my knees tore open and buckled. I smashed into the ground head first and my face scraped over the rough cement. It barely even registered with me though, pain never really did anymore. I just got up without hesitation and kept running.

A long time ago I took my son to see his favorite band and at one point the music became so loud that I thought it had stopped and all I could hear was silence. It was just an illusion of course and in reality my ears simply couldn't process this unnatural level of sound. I'm sure if I had been exposed to an overpowering noise like that for months it would've turned me deaf and maybe that's what happened with my pain. I stopped feeling it when it crossed the threshold of what a man was capable of surviving and by now I had gone numb to it for good.

As I was running past the village's limits it started to hail sparks the size of tennis balls and they exploded on impact all around me, engulfing everything they touched in flames. The whole area soon was littered with broad patches of fire and even a lot of the already scorched bushes were burning.

Suddenly a giant tree was ripped out of the ground only about a football field away and as it was lifted up to the sky it ignited in one violent eruption. All the smoke and darkness was imbued with the eye-piercing light radiating from it and I almost forgot to breathe, because this was the closest thing to beauty I had ever experienced in this god-forsaken place. The next moment a bolt of lightning tore the tree to pieces though and the blazing debris was caught by a squall that made it dart through the air like a massive swarm of deadly fireflies.

Before I was able to wrap my mind around what I was seeing the swarm changed direction and headed straight at me. I closed my eyes and I ran even faster. Soon my body felt stiff like a cinder block and I could already hear the debris howling in the wind, but then I finally reached the prison transport bus I had converted into my refuge. I hurried inside and the second I had closed the door behind me it was struck by the burning pieces of wood with such brutal force that it created countless dents in the steel. I tore off all my heavily smoldering clothes and threw them on the floor. Just when I was done and trying to catch my breath I noticed fire spreading across the pile and I immediately stomped on it with my bare foot. It seemed to just make it worse though, so I decided to toss it out the door, but as I bent down to grab it a huge flame shot into my face, I jerked back, lost my balance and fell over. My head smashed against the floor and I was knocked unconscious.

By the time I coughed myself awake the room was filled with smoke and I was about to suffocate. Despite feeling cripplingly weak and dizzy I covered my mouth and nose, got on my feet as fast as I could and then I stumbled to the front of the bus where I switched on the ventilation. I started to cough harder, so I sat down in the driver's seat and a couple of seconds later I blacked out again.

When I opened my eyes the smoke had cleared, but the battery was dead. It meant that I had to survive without electricity from now on and while I was thinking about all the ways I would be affected by this I could feel a distant sense of dread growing inside me. It only lasted a moment though and then I managed to push it back into the abyss, just like I always did.

As I was starring at the dashboard I caught my reflection on the plastic screen and gasped in horror. I was entirely covered in black soot and there wasn't a single hair left on my head and face. My skin was dried out, wrinkly and full of scar tissue and my eyes were blood-shot and murky. I almost didn't recognize myself, it felt more like looking at the ghost of an old man who had died in a fire. I turned away and without meaning to I kept shaking my head. After a few seconds I decided not to give this nightmarish reality enough time to sink in and got up.

I stopped at the edge of the driver's cabinet and looked at my dirty and foul-smelling refuge. On the right there was a closet and next to it my bed that consisted of stitched together seat pads. In the back I had set up a make-shift kitchen and a workbench with a crudely assembled chair. All the windows were welded shut and only a few beams of light were shining in through various little corrosion-holes. I had coated the ceiling and walls with several layers of fiberglass and I had also put some sturdy planks on the floor, to create pathways that I could walk on without getting scalded. It was still boiling hot inside a lot of the time, but the insulations lowered the temperature enough to not kill me.

I sighed long and hard and then I trudged over to the kitchen, pulled a small can of tuna out of the cabinet under the sink and grabbed my knife. I kept cutting and stirring the tuna until it was a paste-like mush and finally poured the whole can into my mouth. After gagging a couple of times I walked to my bed, lay down and fell asleep within seconds.

I was woken by some loud banging and I frowned at first, not sure whether it was just another nightmare, but then I heard it again and my eyes widened. As the banging became louder and more frequent it hit me that there might actually be someone there, so I jump to my feet, rushed to the door and opened it. A spark-filled gust of wind blew in with such intensity that I staggered back and collapsed onto floor. I was too dazed to focus, I could only hear the door shutting and a moment later I saw the glowing silhouette of a person standing in front of me. I gasped for air and tried to speak, but the words got stuck in my throat and I just coughed instead.

"What the fuck?! It's dark as all hell and Jesus, it reeks like someone fucking shat himself and then died in here!" the person said. His voice was male, relatively high-pitched and full of anger and bewilderment. "I think even taking a lightning-bolt up the asshole beats having to breathe in this fucking death-stank!" he added.

"Please no!" I blurted out so desperately it made me gag.

"Hold that fucking thought!" he answered and then I heard him unbuckle his backpack. A few seconds later he turned on a big gas lamp and I was startled by the blue light, making me flinch violently.

"Holy fucking shit!" he yelled, sounding both appalled and distraught. "You don't even look like a real human being anymore! Jesus!"

"I… Who are you?" I asked and slowly was able to see him. He pulled down his hood and I had to gasp again. It was a boy no older than 18 and he didn't have any scars or blisters, not even grime on his clothes, he was perfectly clean, his skin was smooth and had a golden brown shade, his face was soft-featured, his short black hair was neatly groomed and his hazel-colored eyes were sparkling with alertness and vigor.

"You can call me Flint!" he answered gruffly. I was about to reply, but after a moment of hesitation I burst into tears instead. "Damn!" he said with a somewhat flustered expression. "You know, I would give you a hug. However, the way you smell I'm worried that just looking at you might give me fucking dysentery!"

"No," I said, feeling embarrassed and nervous about making him uncomfortable. "I'll pull myself together. I'm sorry, alright?" I added and quickly dried my face with my hands.

"Also, could you put on some god damn pants?! Because you're kind of sex offending me right now with your nakedness and I don't fucking appreciate that very much!" he replied in a condescending tone.

"Yes!" I gasped, totally horrified. I jumped up, hurried to my closet and then I put on a pair of pants so fast I nearly fell over. When I turned to Flint he was standing there holding his lamp and frowned as he was looking around the room. "I know it's dirty. I'm sorry," I said almost in a whisper and lowered my head in shame.

"Ehm, if words were people I'm pretty sure the word dirty would be too grossed out to even wipe his ass with whatever fucking word this shit-hole would be described with!" he said insistently and raised his eyebrows.

"I…Yes," I answered and cleared my throat. "Where do you come from?"

"I crashed my plane in that village a short walk south of here?!... And no, it's fucking totaled!"

"I see."

"Jesus Christ, you look so god damn demonic, it's like talking to Gollum after he fell into the fucking lava!" Flint said, slightly glaring at me.

"I… I'm sorry…Please don't leave?" I replied with some desperation in my voice. "I'll cover my face, alright?"

"No, just don't fucking touch me under any circumstances, you fucking got that?!" he growled.

"Yes…Sure. I'm sorry," I answered timidly and his expression softened.

"Do you have any fucking food?!"

"Yes!" I blurted out wide-eyed. "Yes, I do. Tuna."

"How much?!"

"Two cans?"

"Perfect. Go heat that shit up and I'll make myself at home in the meantime."

"Heat it up?… My stove doesn't work anymore. I'm sorry," I replied with a sheepish look.

"No fucking problemo! Watch me solve this pickle like a god damn boss!" he answered and winked at me. Next he tapped his shoe against the floor a couple of times and then he stomped on the corroded steel with enough heft that his foot broke through it. Sparks and some flames immediately shot out of the opening and my eyes widened. "Tadaa!" Flint said as he pointed at it, smiling from ear to ear.

"What have you done?" I gasped, both incredulous and shocked.

"Ehm, did you not watch me as I fucking instructed you to?!" he asked in an accusatory tone.

"We need to seal it, right now!" I said anxiously.

"Seal this, motherfucker!" he answered, grabbing his crotch, and then he laughed.

"No. We only have about five minutes before we die of smoke poisoning," I said and rushed over to my workbench.

"Jesus!" Flint sighed. "This is going to much harder than I thought."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, looking at him with a frown.

"Trust me, trying to explain it to you would just be a fucking waste of time!" he said, took a sharp breath and then he sighed again.

"Why?" I answered, frowning deeper.

"Because you still believe that we can die of smoke poisoning," he said matter-of-factly.

I froze and a cold shiver ran down my spine.

"Wait… What are you saying? Are we dead? Is this hell?" I replied, feeling disturbed by my own question.

"Dead?! Has the heat melted your fucking brain or something?! Also, if this is supposed to be hell, who the fuck do you think I am then, the god damn devil?! That's some racist shit, motherfucker!" Flint snarled as he kept glaring at me.

"Why would you be the devil?" I asked, dumbfounded and unnerved.

"My point exactly, you racist fuck!" he replied sternly.

"No. The accident must've traumatized you and now you're confused," I said, shaking my head.

"You thought we are in hell, but I'm the one who's fucking confused?!" he answered and rolled his eyes.

"No. Please stop it. I have to fix the damage or we'll die," I said and continued to search for my tools. Once I had found everything I needed I rushed to the hole and started to close it up. While I was working Flint covered my kitchen counter with a thermal blanket, took a seat on it Indian style and then watched me.

By the time I was done I felt incredibly dizzy, so I stumbled over to my bed and slumped down on it.

"Hey, you can't go to sleep, you have company to entertain, you rude demon-ass bitch!" Flint said indignantly.

"Please. Give me just one minute. I'm so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open," I answered in a meek voice.

"I'm sure one minute seems like nothing to you after eleven years in this shit-hole, but I just got here and let me tell you, every time I inhale this vile fucking stank it feels like I'm snorting an ass-full of diarrhea! So chop chop, motherfucker!" he said, sounding aggravated.

"Eleven years?" I asked and had to frown again. "What are you talking about? I couldn't have been here that long. It's impossible. I mean, if nothing else, don't you think I would've run out of food quite a while ago?"

"What if you did?!" he asked, both squinting and pouting.

"Then why am I not dead?"

"You tell me, motherfucker!" he grumbled.

"You're not making any sense. I ate a can of tuna right before you got here, so I know you're wrong," I answered and shook my head.

"Did you now?!" he asked sneeringly. "You've also claimed to have some left and offered to make me a batch, or am I wrong about that too, huh?!"

"No," I sighed and then I slowly rose from my bed. After taking a few breaths I walked over to the sink and kneeled in front of the cabinet underneath. When I opened it my eyes widened, because all I could see was just a pile of empty cans. I started to hectically go through them one by one, but I couldn't find any that were still full.

"You took them, right?" I asked Flint with a scowl.

"Me?!" he answered, sounding both flabbergasted and outraged. "I was sitting here the whole god damn time, watching you being a dumb shit, you dumb fucking shit!"

"No. I had two cans left and now they are gone. It must've been your doing," I said, shaking my head again.

"I'd rather die than touch anything in this glorified toilet-tank of a place! Also, would you not have noticed me taking them, huh?!" he answered defensively.

"I… I don't know. Show me your backpack please."

"Don't you dare put your grabby fucking demon-fingers on my shit, you got that?!" he said in a threatening tone.

I just stared at him for a moment and then I sighed. Not sure what else to do I searched the cabinet a second time, went through every drawer in my workbench, I even checked behind the bed and in my closet, but I didn't find anything, so I returned to Flint.

"You must have them," I said and reached for the backpack right next to him. Suddenly Flint hugged it to his chest and started to scream as if he was scared to death. I backed away from him and held up my hands.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I gasped, both alarmed and perplexed. He stopped screaming and looked at me with fear in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I won't touch you or hurt you in any way, I swear. Don't be afraid, please?" I continued, trying to sound calm and reassuring.

"Fuck you!" he yelled forcefully.

"Yes. I deserve that. I'm sorry."

"I didn't take your fucking tuna, because there was no fucking tuna here to begin with, ok?!"

"I don't care. You can have it. You can have anything you want, alright?"

"Jesus!" he yelled, seeming frustrated and indignant. "What will it fucking take to convince you?!" he added.

"Convince me? That I've been here for eleven years? Nothing. It can't be true. I know it's not. You're just confused or trying to confuse me," I replied as I was shaking my head.

"Why the fuck would I want to confuse you though?!" he asked and raised his eyebrows.

"Maybe to get rid of me? So you can have this place for yourself?"

"Then why wouldn't I just fucking kill you?!"

"Because you're not a murderer?"

"Yes, we're different that way, aren't we?!" he said with some resentment in his voice.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I replied, frowning deeply and feeling unsettled by the implication. "I'm not going to murder you, if that's what you're worried about."

"So if only one of us could survive here, who would you fucking choose to let die, huh?!" he asked as if he already knew the answer.

"I… Fine. You can have this place. I'll leave as soon as the storm passes. That's what you want, right?" I said and looked at him expectantly.

"And where the fuck would you go?!"

"A few of the nearby houses have a basement. I can stay in one of them, I guess."

Flint glared at me, inhaled sharply and then sighed.

"Ok!" he finally grunted as he climbed off the workbench. "Let's check out all the fucking garbage I'll inherent from you!"

"I…"

"Shut your fucking demon-trap and sit your bitch-ass the fuck down!" he yelled aggressively. Not knowing what else to do I did as I was told and took a seat on the chair by the workbench.

Flint started to go through my belongings and tossed everything he found on a pile in the middle of the room. Once he was done emptying my closet he moved on to the driver's cabinet and I could hear him tearing it apart. Suddenly he stopped though.

"Woah, what have we here?" Flint eventually said, sounding amazed. A couple of moments later he walked back in, carrying a long metal suitcase. He placed it at the foot of the bed, covered the mattress with his blanket and then sat down.

"It's locked," I said.

"No shit, Sherlock Demon-Bitch!" he answered, rolling his eyes at me. Next he pulled what looked like tweezers out of his pocket and fumbled around on the lock with it.

"Don't bother. It's almost impossible to crack this kind of lo…" Before I could finish I heard it clicking and Flint opened the suitcase.

"Oh my, will you look at that. I think I just found love in a hopeless place," he said with a lot of cheerfulness and excitement in voice and then he picked up a large black shotgun.

"Please be careful," I answered, startled by the sight.

Flint just ignored me and after marveling at the shotgun for a couple of moments he grabbed a hand full of shells from the case, loaded them in one by one and finally jerked the pump handle back and forth.

"Locked, loaded and ready to fuck a motherfucker the fuck up!" he exclaimed and then chuckled.

"Please. It's not a toy. You could really hurt yourself," I said, getting more nervous by the second.

"How dare you?!" he asked and scowled at me. "Do I look like some dumb shit who can't even…" he continued, but suddenly the shotgun went off with a deafening bang that made us both jump and the wall across from the bed was riddled with numerous holes. Small, hissing flames came shooting out of them and we turned to each other wide-eyed. A moment later Flint started to laugh hysterically though and I frowned at him in disbelieve.

"Give it to me," I demanded and reached for the shotgun, but just as earlier Flint clutched it against his chest and screamed at the top of his lungs. I backed away, holding up my hands, and he stopped. "I'm sorry. I won't take it, alright? But please, be more careful," I said, both panic-stricken and sorely despaired.

"You're not the boss of me, demon-bitch, so how about you go motherfuck yourself, ok?!" he yelled viciously, raised his chin and then pumped the handle again to reload.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," I sighed.

"So what do you fucking want then?! What's the god damn plan here?!" he asked in belligerent tone.

"I… I don't know…Just to survive, I guess," I answered with a lot of trepidation.

"Why though?!"

"Because it's all I can do. It's the only choice I'm left with," I replied, shaking my head, frowning.

"But what exactly are you surviving for?! Like, where the fuck do you see this all end?!"

"I don't," I said under my breath and stared at the floor.

Neither of us spoke for a while and I became painfully aware of the little flames hissing through the gunshot-holes, the frequent thunder making the whole bus tremble with every brutal roar and the firestorm raging more furiously than it ever had.

"How the fuck do you not get this already?!" Flint eventually asked, his voice full of hostility and bitterness.

"Get it? What do you want from me?" I replied, feeling dumbstruck and lost.

"This is not about what I want, it's about what you don't want, you stupid piece of fucking shit! Christ!" he yelled fumingly.

"You're not making any sense," I sighed, shaking my head again.

"You know what, I'm fucking done! If we can't do this the easy way, let's do it the fucking hard way!" he said with spite.

"Do what?" I asked, both anxious and disturbed.

"You've been trying to convince yourself that I'm here to deceive you or to confuse you or to take your shit, but you got that completely fucking backwards and I'm going to show you just how fucking much! Now listen the fuck up, there's a first aid kit and medicine in the cockpit of my plane and I crashed it straight into that one house on the hill, you know which house I'm talking about, don't you?!"

"Yes. I know. But why are you telling me this?"

"Because you do have a fucking choice!" he said adamantly and then he pointed the barrel of the shotgun at his head and without the slightest hesitation pulled the trigger. The blast thrusted him against the wall behind him and I could hear his skull cracking open. His face was riddled with gaping cuts and holes and blood was pouring from every wound. My eyes widened and I froze, terrified and shaken to my core.

"Why?" I gasped and tried to touch him.

"Stay awa…!" he started to yell, but then he gagged and threw up blood all over himself.

"No... What did you do?" I said, overwhelmed by a biting sense of complete helplessness.

He took a few breaths and after closing his eyes for a second he looked at me.

"Don't let me die," he whispered and then he lay down on his side.

"I… I can't. The storm. I can't," I answered, shaking my head frantically.

"Please," he breathed as his eyes fell shut.

"But I can't!" I replied, my voice brimming with desperation. "Why did you do this? I can't help you," I said and kept shaking my head harder. "Why did you do this?! Why?! Why?!" I asked and suddenly I could feel the pain deep inside me, growing, clawing its way back up to the surface. "Why did you do this to me?! WHY ARE YOU HERE?! I HATE YOU!" I yelled rampantly and then I jumped to my feet, grabbed the chair and started to pound it against my workbench. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH!" I screamed at the top of my lungs as I was smashing the chair to bits and when there was nothing left of it I bent over, gasping for air, and finally burst into tears. "I can't. I won't. I CAN'T!" I sobbed.

All of a sudden I noticed that the room had turned quiet and I looked around. There were no more flames coming out of the gunshot-holes and I couldn't hear any thunder or the storm lashing against the walls. I inhaled sharply, rushed to the door and opened it. My eyes widened when I saw that the firestorm had completely passed and that an eerie calmness had replaced it. I couldn't remember the last time it had been this peaceful outside and I was mesmerized by it for a moment, but then the dire urgency of the situation caught up to me again and I hurried to the pile of my stuff lying on the floor, put on my protective gear and once I was ready I left my refuge.

Breathing in the torrid air was almost unbearably painful and the ground was still hot enough to melt the rubber of my shoes and scald my feet, but I did my best to ignore it and just walked at the fastest pace my weak legs would allow me to.

When I eventually reached the village my entire body was throbbing and it was all I could feel, all I could think about. It made me stop, because I had to silence the pain, give myself some room to exist and a chance to survive it. I focused as hard as I could, rammed it down into the abyss and then I locked it in a dark room with thick walls, reducing its screams to muffled echoes in the distance.

Suddenly a bolt of lightning struck right next to where I was standing, the wave of electricity threw me to the ground, the intense flash burned my eyes and the booming thunder shattered my eardrums. I got up and was about to run back to my refuge, but then it hit me. Flint was fighting for his life, so I didn't have a choice, I needed to face the storm, because watching him die was not something I could choose over my own survival.

I started running towards the house on the hill and the storm promptly intensified. There wasn't a moment without lighting now and the overlapping thunder merged into a grim bellow that shook the ground like an earthquake. Houses ignited and began to crumble. I ran even faster, but then fireballs came hailing from the sky and detonated on impact like mortar strikes. After a few seconds I was struck by one of them and my jacket was engulfed in flames. Without slowing down I ripped it off and tossed it aside.

When I had almost reached the end of the road a large cluster of burning debris was forming a whirlwind that blocked my way. I just shielded my head and face with both of my arms and ran straight into it. Bricks started pummeling me and I could feel my bones breaking, but I just ignored the pain, stomped it deeper into the abyss.

By the time I had made it to the foot of the hill it was completely on fire. I didn't stop though, I just kept running into the blaze. My clothes rapidly turned to ash and I was poisoned by the cruel stench of burned skin. Moments away from being too scorched and blistered to move on I finally arrived at the entrance of the house and jerked to a halt.

Severely panting I tried to open the door, but it was locked and that's when the dam broke and all the pain and desperation that I didn't let myself feel for too many years came rushing back in one devastating title-wave of agony. It swallowed me whole and every single part of my being was consumed by it. The boiling rage took over and I smashed my head against the door with such savage ferocity that it was cracking my skull. The longer I hammered myself into it the more blood came gushing out of me and soon my entire body was covered in it. When the door still wouldn't budge I walked back a few steps and ran towards it, screaming so desperately it was tearing my vocal cords apart. And then I threw myself at it with everything that was left of me. The impact crushed all the bones that hadn't been broken yet, but the door gave in under my weight, I fell into the house, collapsed on the floor and blacked out.

I was woken by a long forgotten warmth caressing my cheek and when I opened my eyes I saw that it was a ray of sunlight shining in through the window. I raised my hand to touch it and marveled at the sight as if it had been the first time I had ever seen such beauty. After being captivated by it for a moment I looked around and gasped as I realized that I was home.

I got off the kitchen floor and then I just stood there, filling my lungs with the clear, fresh air and taking in my surroundings, trying to understand how this was possible.

I eventually walked over to the counter and looked through the window. I saw the swing-set gently rocking in the wind and that's when it hit me. This was where I had been standing that day, where I had watched him fall, where I had watched him die. I started to sob relentlessly and it drove me to my knees. I slumped down on the floor and leaned against the cabinet. And that's when another memory struck me like a bolt of lightning. This was where I had tried to stop the pain, to silence it with one violent blast. I kept shaking my head and then I noticed that there was blood splattered all around me, dripping off the furniture and forming a pool beneath me large enough to drown in.

I jumped to my feet and as I was backing away from it I saw a bloody trail on the white floor leading out of the kitchen. I followed it to the hallway and up the stairs. Suddenly I found myself in front of my bedroom door and a cold shiver ran down my spine. I slowly opened it with trembling hands and froze when I looked inside.

There I was, lying in my bed, vegetating, abandoned and hopelessly lost. The noise of the machines pumping life into me was thundering through the glum silence the room was filled with, it reeked of urine, feces and curdled blood and the sunlight was absorbed by the thick, dark curtains that were covering up the windows. There were numerous bandaged sore spots all over my body and the gunshot-wounds in my face had turned into crude scars that made it difficult to recognize myself.

I walked to the bed and lay down on my side, close enough that we were touching.

"I'm sorry," I gasped shakily and then I closed my eyes.

When I opened them all I could feel was the agonizing pain of my tortured body and soul, but this time I didn't run away from it, instead I clenched my fists, took a deep breath and finally nodded my head as hard as it would let me.