Must Not Like Sunlight...

Pain rips me from the floor and stabs me, like a knife, back into reality.

In between convulsive sobs, I manage to wrap my shredded hands in... well, it used to be sheets. Broken glass is everywhere and from the state of my feet I'm either a very deep sleep walker or a tap dancing masochist. The floral cream pattern around my quivering extremities is turning red alarmingly fast. I don't know how much blood a human body contains, but if the puddles over on the tile are mine I don't have much time before I pass out again. Of course, that body with the chair leg through it's belly probably accounts for most of the gore.

From the broken furniture and splintered... _everything_, it looks like things got a little rough last night. Today? There's an old analog clock with the hands stuck at 2:23. No AM or PM. And no windows in this bloody bedroom room either. Who has a bedroom with no windows - I mean, really?

The only thing _not_ wrecked in this room is a picture of...

Oh.

Well, that explains the body.