“Jack.” I heard a faint whisper in my ear just before everything went black. I woke up in a dark hospital while lying on a creaky, unstable hospital bed. I thought, “Where am I?” I looked around the room, only to find it empty, except for the used needle that lay by my side. I found I was alone and went to pry myself from the covers. I eased myself out and headed for the door. I could only hear a faint ringing in my ears and whispers coming from the end of the hallway. I followed the whispers to find a room with a singular light fixture. This room was not empty like the one before. Instead, it was filled with shelves of blood samples. I felt my body tense as the crimson filled my thoughts. I’ve always hated blood, even when I was little. I hurried out of the room as I felt myself becoming faint. I immediately found an exit to the hospital as I couldn't take the sight any longer. I found myself in a large city.

The city seemed as abandoned as the hospital. I heard whispers again, this time coming from behind me. “Jack.” I heard another whisper, but this time it almost sounded as if it was coming from inside my head. “Jack.” I heard once again. I felt a cold touch from behind. I whipped around to find a young woman looking up at me. She touched me again. She started, “Finally, Jack, you’re here.” “Who are you?”, I asked worriedly. “I’m your sister, silly! How could you not remember your little sister, Olivia?”, she asked offended. I couldn’t listen to another word. I ran as fast as I could down the street. “She is not my sister. She can’t be my sister. That is not Olivia.”, My mind is now racing with thoughts of denial. “Why! Why! Why!” I screamed. “Why did I do it?” I yelled. Her laughs filled my head. I kept running until I found myself right back where I had started. I looked down. My hands were stained with blood. There I found my sister on the porch of what was once our childhood home. She lay there breathless, while her blood oozes from the stab wounds left on her body. “Right where I left her,” I said smiling. I walked into the house to find the bodies of my two parents on the floor of the living room. Both lay in a shared pool of blood, both slaughtered to death by their son. 

My eyes forcefully open as I am surrounded by doctors, each one of them looking at me in horror. “Dr. Oakley! The needle didn’t work!” I heard. I felt hands forcefully pushing me down. “Keep him down and immobile,” someone screamed. I felt a pain in my left arm. I had been stabbed with a needle. My vision blurred and I knew that this was the end for me.