Author's Foreward: Hello reader, again. In case you were wondering, I plan on adding a new chapter to the story at least once every 3-4 days. That's the goal, right now I'm winding down from finals week at my school, and writing stories is relaxing to me, so expect a rapid burst of…chapters.

"Life has no meaning the moment you lose the illusion of being eternal." –Jean Paul Sartre

Chapter 2: No More Heroes

The light from a street lamp burned into my eyes. It enveloped them, submerging them in a hot white flash of pain. I instinctively shielded them. When I lowered my hand, the blood from the administrator was in clear sight on my sleeve.

"AGH!" I ripped off the jacket I was wearing and tossed it into a nearby bush. My mind raced with questions about what had happened. At the time, I remember not believing any of it. Samantha, a dream, blood…My mind centered on that word as I walked down the sidewalk.

Blood. Blood. BLOOD.

I shook my head.

"What is happening to me…" I stopped at a bench and sat down. I held my head in my hands and tried to think everything through, but I couldn't. What had happened only minutes ago was so unlike me, it felt like it was someone else wearing my skin. Or something else controlling me. Samantha came to my mind.

"I've gotta get to the police…" I stood up, and started walking. I remember looking up at the sky, no stars were visible. After a few minutes of walking, and getting my bearings, I stopped.

I can't go to the police. I just assaulted someone. And then I…the blood…evidence all over me…need to get back to my dorm. I was surprised how fast I made up my mind.

I continued to walk. I noticed how dark it was, but I didn't feel the usual sense of fear. It gave me a sense of calm. As I turned a corner, and recognized the illustrious fountain that was in front of my dorm hall, I sighed with relief.

Finally. I started walking, when something came into my periphery vision. I ducked and turned in one motion, raising my hands.

"Hey, hey, hey. We don't want no trouble. Just your wallet." My eyes glanced around. The one talking was in front, no weapons that I could see. I couldn't see the others, if there even were any. I felt a familiar feeling, and an immediate sense of dread.

It started in my chest, went into my lungs, pushed up my throat…

"Go to hell."

What the hell is wrong with you! STOP SAYING THESE THINGS. I tried to take back my words as soon as they left my mouth, but it was too late.

"Looks like we got ourselves a hero. Listen, prissy college bitch, we've killed people for fucking with us. I'm willing to accept an apology though, since this is your first offense. Besides, you already look like you got the shit beaten out of you, just give us the fuckin' money." The blood on my face…

Another figure came out of the darkness. "What's taking so long, ese?" "Hero won't give up his shit." I stepped back once. "You tell him who we are?" "We aren't doing this for the fame, ese. We just need the money." Another step back. "HEY. Get the fuck back here, little bitch."

This time, I didn't feel any sensation come up from my chest.

"Make me, douche."

A hand shot out from the darkness. A big hand. It wrapped around my throat, and it felt like it picked me up off the ground. I struggled to breathe, as my legs flailed aimlessly.

"The fuck you say?" The sensation occurred again. It spread up faster than before, this time going straight into my leg. My leg shot forward involuntarily, plunging itself deep into the mugger. He immediately let go as he fell to the ground, holding his chest.

"CARLOS! YOU FUCKED WITH THE WRONG GUY, BITCH!"

Slow motion. The man who I hadn't kicked reached into his belt and pulled out something. He aimed it at me. The sensation started again, but it was too late. I heard the gun shot, and closed my eyes in advance.

Nothing came. No immense pain, no feeling of being punctured, nothing. I opened my eyes, slowly. The man who had shot me was staring at me, smirking. I glanced directly into his eyes. His smirk turned to a frown. His eyes widened, and he recoiled. He also dropped his gun. "LET'S GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE ESE!" The man turned and ran.

The man who I had kicked earlier was still on the ground. I noticed that his shirt looked red, but I didn't care. I turned and ran. My body began to move lower to the ground, and my legs moved faster than I thought they could. I finally made it to the dorm entrance. I fumbled my access card, but picked it up and slid it through the small slider. The lock released. I cautiously snuck to my room, and opened my door. I shut it, and slid down against it.

"What. The. Fuck."

My breaths were irregular and heavy, and I stayed in this state for a few minutes. How the hell did he miss me! I was glad he had, but I thought that even I could have made a point blank shot like that. Best luck I've had all night… I stood up, my breathing still a little shaky. I decided that the first thing I wanted to do was wash the night off me.

I entered my bathroom, looking straight into my shoulder-high mirror. The reflection I got back was barely recognizable from the previous morning's. Dark circles underneath my eyes. A brownish red stain around my mouth. And for some reason, my eyes seemed off. If I had to describe them, I would say they were hollow. I ran the sink water, and rubbed it all over my face, welcoming the sensation of cleanliness that had escaped me for so long. The blood washed off, falling into the sink.

I took my shirt off next, and rubbed a strange welt on my stomach. It hadn't been there before, and I hadn't done anything that would warrant it. "What…" I glanced down at my shirt. A small hole was visible in the fabric, right on the front. I put the shirt back on. The hole and welt lined up perfectly.

"No…" My mind started racing. I poked the welt. I ripped my shirt off. "No way." I tried to rationalize it. No logical explanation came. No other reason was there.

When the gun had gone off, the shooter hadn't missed. The bullet had hit. Right in the gut. And it didn't even penetrate. It just…bounced off. He saw this. He ran because he had shot me, and I didn't even feel anything.

I don't know if this is what did it, or if my mental state was so tired of the constant barrage of shit from the night, but my mind just shut down. I don't even remember falling down on the bathroom floor.