It's dark...I can't see. I keep trying to open my eyes, but it seems that each time I do, there is a new layer of eye to open. I reach out my hand and it rests on something warm, wet, and sticky. I recognize this feeling. What was it called? Blood? Yes...most of the faint images in my head contain it. A lot of it. I shake some of it off and rub the rest onto my dress. If it can be called that anymore. It's simply raggs. Covering and warm, but raggs. I chuckle darkly at the thought: 'Mother would not be pleased.' Who is mother? Is she special? Do I love her? Is it even a person? "Who goes there?!" A voice I don't recognize. Then hot liquid falls over me, enveloping me. "Answer me! Who are you?!" I don't answer. besides the fact that I don't want to, I'm not sure if I can. Some of the liquid flows into my mouth. It's not blood. What is it? It's not thick, not sticky, and not metalic tasting. I manage to open one eye and see that it's clear, not red. There is no redness around me. Where did the blood come from that I was feeling? I look over at the left side of my chest and see a huge hole. As if a rose was blooming on my heart. Then I remember, a hand, soft as silk, white as porcelain, coming down and ripping, tearing...and leaving an emptiness in my chest. I look over at my hand and see it, dripping in blood. Did I do this to myself? If so, what exactly did I do? I look down and see the clear liquid is washing away all the red, as if making me as clear as it is. Will I disapear? No. Don't wash away the blood. I don't know who I am. The blood defines me...The beautiful red..."Kevin." A name pops into my head. Who is that, is that me? No, I'm a lady. That is a man's who...? "Your name is Kevin?" I look and see a boy, I haddn't realized that i said the name aloud. "No." I reply. "Then what is your name?" He calls back. "I'm not sure...why is this warmth flowing over me?" "Oh, yeah! I was asking you some questions and was trying to inconvinience you so you'd listen to me. I suppose that is no longer needed. I'll just turn it off." "No! I like it." He looks at me and stops turning the nob. "It reminds me of his warmth." "Who's?" "I don't remember." "Ah...did you lose your memories?" "What are memories?" "Why, memories are records kept by your heart. They help you think back on things you might want or need to remember." "Oh. So that's why I don't remember anything. You see, I don't have a heart." He looks at me with confusion andI approach him. He looks frightened as I grab his hand and press it against the place where my heart should be. "Th-there's n-no beating..." He mutters. "Tell me, what defines a human?" I ask him. He looks shocked at the very thought of the question, but then replies,"Well, a living, beating heart." I let go of his hand and start to stumble. "That's what I thought. I guess I really lost everything. Even my humanity..." My vision blurs and again I'm enveloped in blackness.