Poison running through your veins, infecting every part of your existence, until suddenly - it stops. Left in the dark, alone, in an abandoned, boarded up, factory, you realise that your life is now a teenage supernatural cliché.
Rigid in pain unable to move, you only have your senses and brain to investigate. Cockroaches scuttle in the corners of the room, fearing nothing. Wind knocks on the windows, pushing the card and thin metal sheets away not leaving enough room for the bright, summer midday light to seep through and burn your skin.
Your mind casts back, far into your past, looking for the beginnings of this madness, remembering your late life. You wonder whether any of this is really worth it. You come to the same conclusion every time: maybe.