BLOODHOUND.

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The wind howled as it whipped through the open window. It violently lashed at my face as freezing, crisp oxygen relieved my lungs of the fire's smoke. Yet my chest remained heavy.

The room was set alight with the red evening sky. Chords of life support machines were sprawled across the mattress like a cephalopod, aimlessly searching for their missing host. It was no longer an ironic coffin; just an empty, lifeless assortment of bed sheets and pillows.

I couldn't accept it. I refused to. My mind was spiralling out of control. None of this felt real. It couldn't have been.

Creeeaaaaak.

I glanced through the open window. Time almost went in slow motion as I noticed them; one of the Syndicate's agents. A figure dressed in shadow. The iron fence whined as they tried to scale it, as if warning me. It was then that I noticed the source of their struggle; a body bag.

My fists were clenched. My blood began to boil. My feet were already in motion as I realised how much time I had wasted standing there like an idiot. I began to cry out, my throat raw from desperate breaths.

"Hey! Get back he-"

Slit.

A cold, sharp sensation pierced my jugular. Metal. More metal. The second the wave of nausea began to kick in, I yanked myself away and turned around, swinging my knuckle straight into the culprit's face.

It was another Syndicate agent, the syringe in their hand flying as they plummeted to the ground.

As the glass smashed, it all clicked into place.

Oh fuck.

My chest hollowed into a cavern of fear as two more agents moved out from behind the doorway. I must have looked ridiculous; a towering beast of a man, suddenly terrified of the mind drones he took down on a regular business.

Their sunken eyes were fixed on me, staring emotionlessly. Those horrible, pinprick eyes.

It was from those eyes that it emerged. A ghastly monstrosity, swathed in lilac light that exposed every vein and organ behind its transparent skin.

I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. But, somehow, I couldn't. The faceless phantom slithered towards me, tentacle-like appendages trailing behind it. Its bony claws curled up and dove forward, the chipped fingernails digging deep into my scalp.

Before I could react any further, a violet pulse cascaded over my vision. Against my will, I went limp.

I tried to fight back, but I couldn't. It slammed my face against the floor, the cold tiles colliding painfully with my cheekbone. I tried to block out the ringing that assaulted my ears, but it was too strong - too rampant. My thoughts were blank and incomprehensible at the same time.

What was this thing?

What was it doing?

Why couldn't I move?

Why the hell couldn't I move?!

As it pressed its large hand down upon me, I noted the scent beneath me. A metallic, ghastly smell. It didn't hit me until the scorching fire flooded into the room.

Gasoline.

No.

No.

No no no no-

~

A loud gasp whisked out of me.

I shot up from underneath the sweat-soaked covers, surrounded by the swirling dark, heart throbbing and lungs heaving. The nightmare raced through my barely lucid mind. Soon, the pain - the terrible, burning pain - felt fabricated.

As quickly as it started, the shock turned numb.

The heart monitor, once screeching in tune to my violent wavelengths, gradually died down as my chest relaxed. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beneath me was a thin, uncomfortable mattress that felt way too small. Gentle moonlight shone through the window, illuminating my surroundings. Clean, bright white walls - almost too clean - framed two heavy iron doors.

Am I... in the hospital?

I glanced down at the bed sheets. Almost my entire left side was wrapped in gauze, constricting my skin like a cocoon. A helmet of weighty dressings covered my face. Beneath it all, I could sense the rubbery, unnatural texture of my skin.

Like a stricken match, the dread came back in full force. I remembered it all: my crackling, melting skin, and the screams and cries that catapulted out of me. The burning torment had been like thousands of tiny, ignited thorns, stabbing and ripping away at my flesh. All I could remember aside from the unbearable pain was how I couldn't stop shrieking, and how I couldn't do anything about it, and that... thing.

I held my head in my free hand. That was just a nightmare, wasn't it? Then what actually happened? What was I doing before?

I was...

I...

...

Who was I?

The name was on the tip of my tongue. It was screaming at me from the back of my head. Yet, no matter how hard I thrusted against the mental brick wall, nothing called back. Nothing answered. The more I dug, the more it hurt. It was like screws were twisting into my brain, as if punishing me for trying to remember. I keeled over, my brain almost smoking as it kicked into overdrive.

What the hell happened to me?