I awaken to the feeling of icy water grabbing me by the arm, which I find particularly strange, since it's the middle of June. So why do I feel so cold?

This is when I notice the long, inky red trail of blood spiraling out of my neck, an unseen force shooing away the fish.

I remember now; I was murdered.

I may not understand how I am still awake though dead, but I do understand my deep feelings of hatred and injustice.

Up through the moss, a bloody hand rises.

The cabin is close; only a two mile walk. With every step I take, I feel a deeper rage than before, and I devise my plan of revenge.

I don't even bother to avoid stepping on the twigs surrounding the cabin in the woods. He is alone, beyond any phone signal, in a forest miles from civilization. He is exactly where a killer would want him, though now the roles have truly reversed.

For the next few hours I wait, wait until every light within is out, and even wait a bit longer then. I slowly creak the wooden door open, and find him snoring obnoxiously. For some time, I simply stand there, watching as he slumbers, sleeping like a baby. And to think that he just killed a helpless little boy. He awakes too late, and the very same razor blade is one inch deep into the surface of his neck.

I dispose of the body in the lake, where it is eaten within minutes.