Prologue
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October 13, 2015
The air stings as it fills my lungs. Dry and sharp, like swallowing sand.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
A heavy, wet knocking behind my ribs. Slow. Way too slow. It doesn't feel like my heart.
The dark doesn't snap away. It thins out, turning grey around the edges. First the damp, bruised purple sky through the trees, then the cold mud soaking straight through the knees of my pants.
Then the smell hits.
Hot copper. Bile. The thick, sweet reek of raw meat coating the back of my throat.
My chin drops.
Directly beneath my feet lies a shape. It used to be a person. Now it’s just a wet, torn ruin. Caved-in head, pale skin split wide open. A face stripped of everything that made it human.
From somewhere behind me, a high wail cuts through the woods. Sirens. Red and blue lights flash against the tree line, strobing over the dark ground and the body at my boots.
Voices scream out from behind the glare.
“Hands where we can see them! Drop the weapon!”
I try to open my mouth, but my throat is completely dry. My mind is blank. Scraped down to the bare wood.
I look down at my hands. Empty. No blade, no pipe, no rock in the grass.
But my knuckles are split raw. And running down my wrists is a thick, dark stain, cooling fast against my skin.
Slowly, I uncurl my fingers.
The blood stretches between my palms in sticky, dark threads as I stare at the ruin beneath my feet.
What have I done...?
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