I wake up in a daze. I try to sit up but it's harder than usual, so I give up and just lay there.

I feel out of it, from a strange dream I was having possibly.

My throat feels sore. I turn my head and my face touches something wet and cold that makes me flinch.

There's a puddle of blood on my pillow, dripping down onto my sheets. I look down at my hands and they are covered in red.

Who's blood? This couldn't be mine. There's so much of it I feel like I could faint. I never thought the smell could be so strong.

As I sit up, I feel something trickle down my neck. I slink to the bathroom as fast as my body will move to look in the mirror and what I feared was true.

My throat is slit with half the blood streaming down and the other drying in the cracks. My skin looks pale and blue, clinging to my bones.

I feel like gasping and that's when I realize I am not breathing. I don't need to.

I am no doubt dead. My eyes are sunken back an inch and my brown sad eyes stare blank.

But why am I still here? Who could have done this? Why can't I remember anything?

I have always believed in some form of heaven but I know this isn't it. I am dead but stuck in the world where I once was alive.

I go back to my room in a panic. Searching for my phone but it's nowhere in sight. Now that I look around, I notice there's nothing but furniture in my room.

Empty. Blank. All of my posters, paintings, knickknacks, everything that makes me me is gone. Washed away like my life that was taken from me. Erased.

There's only one object left out of place and it makes me feel sick. My pocket knife, lying at the edge of my bed.

I reach for it, stomach aching I open it. Blood runs down the blade.

A flashback hits me and I drop it. I remember.

I shake my head wanting to wake up but I know in my gut that isn't going to happen. Never again. I am no longer here.

I run to the mirror again, as if I'm being drawn to it. I take another look at myself. I stare deep into my eyes and I see a flash of someone who I had seen before. Maybe in a dream or a nightmare, but my eyes were hiding something. Someone.

Someone who has been haunting me.

I keep my head down, but another part of me forces my head to lift and look at myself.

I grab my head, holding on but I'm too weak.

I let go.

Gazing into the mirror, a smile wraps and twists around my face. My brown eyes flood with black, and that's when I knew. I knew who did it.

It was me.

I take one last look at myself, tears fall.

Then I let what's left of me fade away, for her to take over.