As you open your eyes, you are blinded by a fluorescent light above your head. You're laying down. You hear an alarm ringing at a consistent rhythm that makes you twitch. The air smells of rubbing alcohol and metal. When your vision clears, you realize that you are in an operating room. A thin, sky-blue gown is the only thing concealing your naked state. When you get out of the bed, your bare foot touches something viscous and warm. It’s blood. That’s when you notice: everything is covered in blood. The lights start to flicker. On, off. On, off. On, off. Hyperventilating, you grab a scalpel from the instrument table on the left side. You start to run. When the door approaches, you grab the knob with great force. Cursing, you find that the door is locked. You use the scalpel to pick the lock. Then you thrust your shoulder against the door. It creaks open. You slam the door open and start to jog. A thin sweat blankets your face. The crow like wail of the alarm increases your adrenaline. You start sprinting with no direction. You’re now in a cold hallway. In it, the floor is has puddles of blood as if it had been raining. You slip on a puddle. When you regather your self, you see dead bodies decorating the plain tile floor. With your heart pounding in your, you try going into different hospital rooms in hopes of escape. Deceased lie stiff in the rooms, their eyes rolled back and mouth agape. You cover your nose with what’s left of your ripped gown, to block out the aroma of decomposition, pus and blood. The smell enhances the unimaginable reality of dead people everywhere. In desperation, you bang your body against windows and doors, wishing that they would open. You try the scalpel in the locks. You have no luck. You start to scream with a raspy voice, “Anyone! Someone! I’m still alive!” Your throat becomes claustrophobic. You need air. “Someone!” you say, tears and blood soak your gown. The lights start to flicker above you. On, off. On, off. On, off. “Please! Please! Someone!” You hear a cough. The cough gets more violent within seconds. You follow the noise with your knees crumbling underneath you. Then you see him. He’s on his side, bleeding from the leg. When he sees your face he turns white and begs of your mercy. “D-don’t kill me!” “P-lease, p-please don’t kill me!” He starts to shake. You say, "What's going on? We have to get out of here!" He seems to tremble at your voice. "Please, I have a family, don't kill me!" You come closer to him. You could feel his stale breath and smell his salty perspiration. You want to get him off the floor. When you touch his arm, he screams. His mouth froths rapidly. Then, his eyes cry blood and sink back into his skull. He's dead. The lights start to flicker again. On, off. On, off. On, off. You slump against the clumpy maroon wall, into a ball. The only sound is the alarm, the drip of blood, and your hysterical bawls. When you look up, you catch your reflection on the basin of the water fountain. The lights flicker weakly, and then; everything goes black.



********
You wake up in your bed, sweating heavily and gasping for air. You sigh of relief as you realize that your're in your home, and that it was all a nightmare. You make your way to the kitchen, and pour yourself a cup of coffee. The television is on. You sit down on your favorite chair and sip your black coffee. Something is underneath you. Tugging with one hand under your bottom, you grab something. It's a newspaper. The front headline reads: "Hospital Massacre. " Your eyes widen as you read the article. As you get to the bottom, you see a picture. The picture is of you. You did it. It wasn't a nightmare.