The man seemed to suddenly snap out of a short coma.

But not in some bedroom, not even in some horrifying dungeon of sorts. He found himself in some sort of opening in a forest. Pale white birch trees had grown everywhere, followed by ochre leaves scattered all around the branches. A little red cardinal soared through the trees, hopping on each little twig. But all the serenity ended when he tried to stand up.

What t-the...hell?!

The man hadn't paid much attention to his body at first, but words could not describe how horrified and disgusted he was by what he just laid eyes on. His left arm he used to stand was half transparent blue, pieces of skin were decaying off, leaking out strands of muscles. There was a bone-deep gash sliced through his hand and was dripping drops of blood at an insanely rapid rate.

W-what? Wh-hy is my body like this?

But still, not a single place in his body ached, his bones didn't feel shattered, the muscles weren't completely torn, everything was still in place.

So..this isn't a..dream..

He started leisurely walking through the woods, still trying to remember who he was. There was no sort of memory popping through his head about anything of him, no thought of anything. There wasn't a trace of any clues he could find. Each step through the jagged, hard leaves, he repeated the same question and hoped to find the answer.

Who am I?

The question started swarming through every cell of his body, every time he tried to get through to the answer, the gaping ravine of cluelessness expanded. The thought was like an itch, one that made him want to claw his skin off,. He started running through the woods, no apparent reason at all. There was nothing he could do but run.

Maybe I can find the answer if I run.

Just keep running.

He stormed through every crevice in the forest, hoping for something, anything, that would tell him about himself. The more he clawed his skin, the more the itch grew and grew

What he is.

What he is.

Where he is.

Why is he.

Why.

His mind couldn't stop. He couldn't stop. The man kept thinking and thinking about what he is, but still nothing, he still couldn't recall a single memory in his empty skull. Even if he'd thought of something familiar, it was too hazy to identify.

No. he needed to find out. He has to.

The man kept running. His legs were exhausted and weak, his lungs were tired of inhaling and exhaling so much. The sun started to dawn, the orange glow shimmered throughout the leaves, casting bright yellow projections on the ground. His heart raced through his body. His rasping breath stabbed his lungs. The same exact question echoed through him, but the more he thought harder the more he deprived his sanity.

What is it.

His head ached like hell. The scrambled jigsaw pieces of who he is had no possible way to decode. The man couldn't end the desire to know. His head was splitting apart, every time he thought, another crack formed through his mind. The once bright orange sky has now become a dark hazy blue. It was almost nighttime.

No.

I can't stay here.

I need to leave.

Something told the man he needed to leave, the feeling was dead serious, Yet he couldn't put his finger on it. He immediately started storming out the grove, Through every arching branch and tree. His heart beated faster and faster, he could barely catch enough air, but he couldn't stop running. The ground shook with tremors. The man still bolted as fast as he could, with no question of why at all. He wouldn't focus on who he is anymore, the itch was swept aside. The only desire he needed was to leave.