A teenager, no more than the age of fifteen or sixteen, could be seen running down a dilapidated hallway. Windows, broken and cracked, were seen on his left side, displaying the orange horizon as the sun was beginning to set. However, it all showed the ruined and run down city, some buildings erupted in flames as smoke was arising out of it, trash bags and other garbage littered the floor with numerous amounts of red liquid covering the streets.

His yellow t-shirt that had a strap over his shoulder, connected to the bag that was on his back and the flashlight that hung on the front to light his way. His shirt bloodied, his gray cargo pants dirty with dirt and mud, small specks of red blood, and his running shoes stained with blood as well. They looked worn, almost like he had been running for an eternity, or what felt like it, anyway. Panting heavily, he turns to the right, grabbing the corner of the rundown hallway to help turn himself down that way.

Thundering footsteps could be heard behind him, the black-haired teenager turning his head behind him as he sees "Them." These creatures. Many of these creatures had their skin decaying, colored grey, their eyes a blood red as the liquid itself was pouring out of their mouths, eyes, and wounds, their clothes ripped and having tears in them. Though there were some unique ones, so to speak. There were some within the horde having no clothes at all, having been stripped of their skin and flesh and only showing their muscles. Their mouths split open into four parts, roaring at him as their elongated tongues slither and writhe out, specks and droplets of saliva being flung out as they rushed at him.

He turned his head back to the front, no longer being able to bear the sight of them. His breathing quickened, his panting increased as he began to run at full speed. The only thing that was motivating him to run away from these creatures was the need of safety and the adrenaline he was feeling, the boy hearing his heartbeat grow louder, echoing throughout his head as this overwhelming fear began to rise within his chest.

He just wanted to escape. Escape the nightmare he found himself in.

Placing both hands on a corner, he used his momentum to fling himself around to head down to the next corridor. At the end of the hallway, he spotted a window, shattered with the wind blowing through it. His heart continued to pound, the pumping noise beating ever so loudly within his head as the adrenaline was at an all time high. Once he was getting close to reaching the end, he put one foot onto the window sill and leapt out, his arms and legs flailing as he was suspended from the ground, his breathing having temporarily stopped for a moment before it resumed. It was like the air had escaped his lungs just for a mere second, then returning all at once as he looked down, descending toward a pile of blue trash bags at an extremely fast rate. In a matter of seconds, he plunges straight into it, seemingly not sustaining any damage at all, tumbling out of the rubbish before he falls onto the dirty and bloodied ground.

The boy coughed, getting onto his hands and knees as he breathes heavily, trying to regain composure and calm himself down as the adrenaline began to wear off. Everything felt still, almost a sense of tranquility. If it was really that easy.

Once he had gotten up, a skinless creature from the shadows had jumped out one of the nearby destroyed windows. Tackling him to the ground, it tries to devour him, roaring in his face as spit and saliva was flung from it's mouth and onto his face, it's mouth splitting open as the elongated tongue came out.

He desperately tries to fight it off, feeling his life just beginning to slip away. His vision beginning to turn to black as the creature kept persisting, it's grip onto his neck tightening even more as he felt his own grip on the creature beginning to loosen. 

Was this the end? Was this it? Was this how he was going to die?

However, he heard something in the distance calling him. A name... His name.

It was still faint, "Takahashi..." Which proceeded to get louder, "Takahashi... Takahashi... Takahashi!"

---

A seventeen-year old, black-haired teen with spiky hair began to awaken, his bright blue eyes fluttering awake as his vision was initially blurry. Once they began to clear, he found himself in a school classroom, finding himself in the male uniform of the school. A simple black blazer that was buttoned up with black dress pants and white indoor shoes. The other males wore the same as him. There were also female students around him as well, their uniforms consisting of a white sailor uniform with green accents to it, a black bow on their chests, and a green skirt to boot to complete the outfit.

The seventeen-year old could see them snickering at him, some of them even full-blown laughing at him. But he didn't care. After all, none of them understood. Understood the horrors he had previously seen, that is.

His temporarily drowsy eyes begin to focus as he peers his head up. In front of him was a middle-aged man, dressed in a black suit and tie as he looked at the black-haired teen with irritation. Repeatedly, the teacher kept tapping a ruler on the boy's desk in hopes of getting his attention, his irritation only rising as the black-haired teen was giving him a lazy expression.

"Think sleeping in class is so funny, huh, Takahashi!?"

"Huh?" The boy only looked at him confused.

A visible tick mark appears onto the teacher's head. "Don't give me that look! You know what this means, don't you, Takahashi!? Dete—Hey, where do you think you're going!?"

The boy had interrupted him, shoving his hands into his pockets and began walking out of the room. "Toilet," was all he said.

"Hey! Class is still in session!"

"Whatever," Takahashi said, giving him another lazy look before walking out.

"Detention, you hear me!? Detention, Takahashi!"

The other students who were previously laughing only howled even louder. Some of the other students then began with some name calling and such, trying to make fun of the boy, some talking behind his back and questioning his place in this school. After all, they were in Fujimi High School, a private high school that was known to be very difficult to get into in the first place. No one was really sure how he got in here in the first place, but he had transferred in at the beginning of their second year. So some people thought he might've pulled some strings to have skipped a level or something.

But if anything people knew, they've declared him as one of the lowest people on the social ladder. One of the worst of the worsts. Even worse than the so-called "worthless nerds" in the school. But that didn't matter to him. It didn't matter because no one understood his problem, the trauma he had received. He never talked about it, nor did he ever. Thinking about it made him feel terrified of what had happened before.

It was all brushed under the rug, the event hidden from everyone and simply declared a deadly disease that required containment. But anyone who was within that hell when it initially started knew what happened; the true and utter nightmare it was to survive and go about their days. Like anyone would believe him if he were to talk about with them. They wouldn't believe him. They would've thought he was crazy, merely delusional who played too much video games or watched too much horror media.

As he walked out of the sliding door to leave, a girl's reddish-brown eyes trailed off after him. An expression of curiosity and concern was painted all over her face, wondering what was wrong. She knew him, of course. Long ago, if you were to call it. Since childhood. But ever since he entered the school, she rarely talked to him. The girl couldn't help but wonder why she's found it hard to approach him, but she wasn't sure what it was that was preventing her from doing so. Either way, she couldn't help but be concerned. Because there were small glimpses she'd see on his face every now and then. That look of fear and horror that would sometimes cloud his face, along with those eyes of sadness hidden behind those lazy, and dull blue eyes of his.

---

In the boys bathroom of the school, the water faucet could be heard running. The boy could be seen standing in front of the running water, his hands under the faucet head as they were drenched in the warm water, his dull eyes cast down toward the drain below. He seemed lost, his mind elsewhere as he continued to wash his hands with soap and water.

Putting his hand on the faucet handles, pushing it to turn it off, he pans his gaze up. The perfectly paned mirror on the wall was now cracked and shattered, showing his reflection of his dirty and grime-filled complexion, his cheeks having dried blood and dirt. In the mirror, the reflection of his clothes were just like the ones he had in the nightmare he had previously witness. A yellow t-shirt with dried specks of blood and dirt, with small rips and tears in it, and a flashlight in the pocket on the right side of his chest. His school pants were back to those cargo pants he was wearing earlier and his white school shoes replaced with the worn, black running shoes.

He looked back down at the sink. It was dirty, his hands covered with blood with dirt under his fingernails, scratches along his knuckles and creases.

He then heard a guttering growl behind him, whipping his head around as he was fully alert. Nothing was there.

The environment was back to normal, the rugged and dirty clothes having disappeared as he was back in his school uniform. His face and hands clean, no amount of blood spotted anywhere. They boy then gritting his teeth, forming his hand into a fist as he slams it against the wall next to him.

"Damn it..." He muttered.

That's right. He remembered, never forgetting that place. It was quite literally something out of a horror movie. A scenario one might think was impossible to happen.

But it was true. His eyes had seen it. Vicious monsters that were once human, turned and deranged by a virus that infected them to become undead nightmares to feast on the living. People turned on one another, trying to survive—others trying to band together and form survival groups before eventually falling to the dead itself.

The monstrosities evolving into terrifying creatures of the night. Those soulless white eyes, hellish screams of despair and fear, the clamoring sea of people trying scamper away at anything they could grab to get themselves to somewhere relatively safe.

Many died and few survived. He was one of the lucky few. Tetsuya Takahashi—a survivor of the Harran virus—pitifully living in his home city after such an event.

No longer able to look at life the same, constantly looking over his shoulder in fear of the dead—his weighted past wishing to claw him back down into that darkness of hopelessness.

There was no other word to describe that event. A nightmare... An absolute hell.