Ten Minutes till Three

Chapter One

The earth was cold, forgotten; the midnight air coated in the putrid scent of decaying corpses and painted in the color of crimson. Thousands of bodies lining the streets the way you see in works of nightmares and horror stories. The tattered buildings and plants were all that was left of a once lively world filled with joy and peace. A silence which lurks around every corner. An uneasy feeling that someone is watching you - following you. Every step you take. Every breath is noticed by red, blood-shot eyes having not seen the likes of sleep in days.

Faint breathing.

Quick steps.

That feel of dread that overpowers you every time you lose your way, or come to a dead end. Ripped up clothing. Matted hair covered in blood and sweat.

Oh, how I wish I could take a shower. The little things everyone thinks of as nothing. Just part of their daily lives. The warm droplets beating against your skin over and over on repeat; the water so soothing and calm, its... tranquil. However, its not for me right now, showering isn't something that I could take my time to do. Because you see, I don't have time. This is just how it is. How i'll live my life for now. It's how I'll live until I get it back. My memory.

My memory is gone - taken from me. I remember nothing of the last five years. I woke up in a bare, empty room. It was lifeless and dull. Dust took over the room and everything was coated to where it was almost impossible to tell the original coloring of the furniture. It kind of looked almost like a doctor's office. You know, the one's that talk to the people they say are crazy. Loony. Insane. My eyes scanned the pale room in a panic; then they stopped. The door. I lifted myself up from the ripped leather doctor's chair I woke up in and stepped towards the door. The frame was chipped and faded from its once yellowish paint cover. My eyes narrowed as I focused on the door. I noticed there was a sticky note plastered to it as I neared close. This was recent. It was obvious by the lack of dust on it and the vibrant green seemed almost new. Well, new except for the blood which seemed to have splattered onto it at some point. There were words written quickly and messily, as if they had only a second to give the message.

"Run. Death is after you."

So, I ran.

Ran faster.

And faster.

Escaping a deserted building, running away from someone, or something...? I had no clue how I ended up in that room. I don't remember going there. I don't even remember where I was. Why I ended up in that building. That office. Had I gone completely insane? Was the disease of insanity flowing through my veins? Slowly eating away at my mind? My imagination? None of that was necessary at the moment. I just knew to run as fast as I possibly could.

Running out of the building and into the cold air hit me like an unexpected punch to the face. It burned cold across my cheeks and my forehead. My temples aching all down to my chin in a tinted red from the chill. It hurt to move through it. It seemed to be as thick as ice and I was getting cut as I moved slowly through. But I knew not to stop. No matter what, I couldn't stop or else I would die. I would be killed. I was too frightened to even try to think of how someone knew that and why they decided to warn me. Was there someone on my side? An ally? Or was this a simple trick to lure me in. A rabbit led into a trap by a carrot' once trapped they are ready to be cut up and made into dinner that night. I was the rabbit. I ran - nay - I sprinted down the road, turning this way and that trying to find a way out of this place or even just to get as far away from that wretched building. Someone had been in there while I was asleep. Unconscious? I still don't know. The thought alone was enough to send tremors across my body. I turned a corner and saw a sign. The first sign I've seen the entire way. It was rusty, but read a street name.

2nd street.

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