I wake up with the taste of blood on my lips, the smell in the air was rich of rotting earth, before I knew it the cold was setting in and my body began to feel itself. As I lifted my head to check my surroundings a shooting pain ripped through my neck and skull. I let out a soft wince, moving my lips caused the dried cuts to open and the blood began to fall down my chin. There was little to no light in the room, or where ever this place was; I turned to my side, slowly and spit the blood that was slowly filling my mouth. Bringing a hand to my chest I feel the bones moving, definitely broken.

Jesus, where the fuck am I?

I say out loud, hoping for an answer. Taking in a deep breath, I once again wince in pain, as I roll myself on to my stomach, unaware of my injuries.

Come on, breathe.

I say, willing my body to do so. Every piece of my body that I can feel only pulses with pain, as I move parts come back alive and pain shoots to the limp or that rib or that finger, or that ear drum.

Why can't I remember any thing? Why does it feel like I've been run over by a mac truck? Why don't I have finger nails on my left hand? Why is my wrist broken?

The questions are running through my head faster then the answer comes. I am in a cold wet place, my body is broken and failing, I don't know how I got here, and all I want is a drink of water.

I hear a voice. I don't know where it is coming from. But it is definitely a voice. A man or woman I cannot tell but it sounds like Charlie Brown, in my pain, I laugh. The thought makes me laugh. In this situation I shouldn't be laughing. The laughter only brings more pain, and I laugh at it, Fuck you pain.

The voices get louder and louder, I am excited, but I am scared. Will the voices help me? Or hurt my worse. I can't take any more pain. I laugh again, this time the pain ignites something else. Vomiting.

The vomit burns my cut lips as it passes. My ribs can't take it, my heart begins to beat fast, it sends signals to my arms and brain that it can't handle this. My chest hurts for heaving, my arm hurts from my hearts panic, and my brain slows. My vision blurs, as a door opens I hear the voice.

Danny? Jesus fucking Christ.

I know the voice. I can't place it. I can't remember anything. I do know one thing.

I am Danny Messer.