Pain.

So much pain.

So cold.

So, so cold.

Whimpers of pain escape her pale lips, something wet and sticky coating what she thinks is her body.

But she can't think. Can't comprehend. Can't remember.

So much pain. Every breath she takes slices into her cracked ribs like hundreds of knives. She is too weak to even understand, to even fight, to even think.

Oh, her heart. Her heart is beating and she wishes it would stop because it hurts too much to live. Too keep herself alive.

Can't someone finish the job? Can't someone help her?

A memory ghosts across her mind, elusive like the fog and a face pops up but it is too blurry, she is too weak to grasp that memory in her cold, lifeless hands. The only thing she can make out through the blurry image is eyes, red eyes that make her body seem to warm and come alive for a moment and something akin to butterflies to break out in her broken and erupted stomach until the red eyes disappear and her body returns to the torture of her death and she wants to cry out for those eyes

She wants to hold those red eyes into her dying ones. Because she knows that someone with those red eyes means something to her. Belongs to someone who means a lot to her.

But who was the person with the red eyes?

She groans again as the pain in her dying, broken body rips her apart like knives cutting through meat.

Suddenly, she hears something and instinct is telling her to keep quiet but how could she when her body was in constant agony and her heart had now picked up speed, gushing out more of that sticky stuff onto her body that smelled metallic.

"...help..." She murmured, begging for the person to kill her, to end this agony.

A very, very hot hand touches her forehead and she whimpers at the contact as the voices murmur to her. These voices give her pause because they are too perfect, too beautiful, too inhuman and she doesn't know whether they are good signs or bad. But they remind her of someone, someone with bright red eyes.

Suddenly, she feels a pair of lips touch her body, licking along the way until they reach her neck and she feel awkward because something wet is touching her and this felt wrong, wrong, wrong because only one person had done this to her out of love, the person with red eyes but then a sharp, piercing sting cuts her skin at her throat, and something hot rushes in. Something rushing past the bite, to her throat, inside of her blood, inside of her body and oh god, it is too hot, too, too hot like boiling water falling onto her body and she was unable to get away. Like holding the wrong end of the curling iron and instinct telling her to let go, to drop it but her hand was stuck on the hot iron and it was burning her skin, burning her alive and she screamed, screamed as the fire ripped through her body and she took it back, took it back because it was too much, too much. If this was death, she didn't want to die.

Not like this.

No, the way her body was in agony before was nothing, nothing compared to the fire ripping her apart inside her body and it hurt, it burned, it killed her insides and make it stop, make it stop!

She screamed and screamed, her body writhing in agony as if she was electrified and she was growling and screeching and screaming like a dying animal because that's what she was. That's who she had become. Her body was on fire and it was in the inside as they consumed her blood, consumed her very soul and she could not stop screaming, begging someone to kill her, to stop this pain once and for all. Someone breaking her arm without pain medication was like a douse of cool water compared to this. She'd rather have her body being broken apart bone by bone because that was nothing compared to this pain, to this fire that ate her alive.

Her heart, damn her heart for beating so, so hard like a helicopter's blades slicing the air. Her heart was beating too fast and it hurt and she wished her heart would stop.

Thinking became impossible, breathing was torture, moving was complete and utter agony.

One name popped into her name and she didn't know who it belonged to, what it meant to her but that was all she could think about, all she could scream, all she could do to let out some kind of reprieve from the pain.

"FRED!"

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