I think I might be dead.
For what seemed like an eternity, I was only cognizant of pain. The sort that felt like fire licking across my skin. A fire that dug and seeped until it touched bones. A fire that consumed me before spitting out the remains, only to come in search of me again.
I thought I might be in Hell. And there must be a reason I had ended up here…
A reason…
The thought quickly dissolved as the fire found me once more.
It went on like that for hours…days…years…? Time seemed irrelevant. But at some point, I was alone for a long time. The flames had spit me out, but they hadn't returned. I was left there bruised, and weak, and blessedly numb.
I ought to run. In case the fire came back. I couldn't let it catch me again.
So, I struggled to my feet wearily. And started running.