I don't know how long I've been here.
Time has no meaning here.
Nothing has meaning here.
The first thing I remember is waking up in this...place. Alone. Not knowing how I got here, or where I was, or who I was.
Already the Unreality had taken ahold of me.
Slowly it came back, bits and pieces of my life before. My parents, my sister. My run-down home in South Chicago. My name, Claire. That was the last thing I remembered.
And I remembered starting the fire that killed my parents.
I think I went mad after that. Hard to tell. There is a fine line between sanity and madness here.
I've seen no one since I got here. Not a soul, not a whisper of life. Just me, and my guilt.
Maybe I'm not even really here. Maybe I'm dead, and this is hell.
But hell would be better than this.