I take a single, shambling [[step forward]].But the weird thing is, I don’t remember telling my legs to move. Yet somehow they continue to move forward. I can hear the bones in my ankles crack and my knees pop, but [[I feel nothing]]. From the decaying tips of my toes to the peeling skin on my scalp, I am without feeling. [[Am I dying?]] [[Am I dead?]] Am I dying? No. I can’t be dying. That implies I’m alive and I can’t be alive if my lung just fell out of my chest two steps ago. So what does that mean? [[Am I dead?]] Am I dead? I take another step forward. I can’t be dead, [[I’m walking]]. My pace starts to quicken and a strong smell hits my nose. Or rather, the absence of smell. The horrendous smell of rotting flesh is all but absent for a brief moment and every muscle in my body freezes. [[I stop moving]].Once the horrible stench of my decaying entrails dissipates further, the current smell surrounding me makes itself more clear. It’s not just the absence of the terrible smell, but rather it’s the smell of normalcy. It’s the smell of living flesh. This is what home smells like. [[I ignore the smell]] [[I go towards the smell]] I do my best to ignore the smell. I continue moving, not acknowledging the overwhelming sensations of hunger that pervade every fiber of my being. Well, every fiber that is still connected to my person, that is. After a few more steps, I can’t ignore it any longer. I stop in place. [[I go towards the smell]]. There’s a [[closed tent]] in the forest clearing. A still-warm but dead campfire near a blanket. Empty bottles and cans. And a large [[tree stump]] with a tarp covering. I approach the tent. As I lean over to find the opening, I realize all of my fingers and thumbs have been severed, replaced with only dried, black stubs. [[Try to open the tent]] Turn back to the [[small camp]] As I approach the stump, a man erupts from behind the stump and swings a steel pipe at my skull. [[Try to block the pipe with hands]] [[Lunge towards the man]] I reach down with my hands to rip open the tent, but can’t get a good grip on the material. I stumble and fall over onto the tent. As I writhe around on the ground, I hear footsteps then see a man. “Gotcha, you disgusting monster!” He sinks a long, steel pipe into my brain. I finally die.I attempt to reach up and block the pipe with my hands, but the sheer force of the swing shatters my fragile wrists and the pipe connects with the top of my head. After I hit the ground, the man finishes me off by driving the steel pipe into the back of my head. I finally die.I lunge forward, catching his arm mid-swing. The smell of his skin overwhelms all of my senses and I sink my teeth into his arm unwillingly. As the intensely refreshing taste fills my mouth and his skin and blood satisfy my hunger, I begin to savor each and every bite. This tastes like home.Following the scent brings me to a forest clearing near a river. I just now realize I’ve been in a forest this entire time. I also realize how hungry I am. But it’s not like normal hunger, rumbling in the depths of my stomach. It feels more like a deep-rooted aching, an insatiable longing as if I’ve never eaten in my entire life. As I get closer to the smell, I find a [[small camp]].