My legs burned. My lungs burned. My eyes burned. Everything burned. But I couldn't stop. I needed to keep running. I had to.

I didn't know what it was, but something was chasing me. I didn't dare look behind me. I didn't dare move my eyes from the path forward.

My heart pounded in my chest, making it the only noise I could hear. Sweat dripped from my forehead, my skin coated in a thin sheet of it. Tears slipped down my cheeks with ease, getting into my mouth and filling it with the taste of salt as I took desperate breaths.

My feet ached, the arch of my right foot feeling like it was about to split apart. At the same time, it practically was about to. My feet were bleeding, deep scrapes littering the skin. The blood made my feet look like I had just stepped into a pile of dark red paint that splashed up my legs, which were also covered in wounds.

My arms and hands weren't in a much better state. I could feel the dried blood cracking when I finally managed to move my arms through the exhaustion. The adrenaline pushing through my veins kept the pain down, not allowing it to hit me at full force.

I didn't know where I was running, only that I was going in one direction. The trees felt unnaturally tall, looming over my body that was a mere ant in comparison. Everything looked the same. Just large trees shrouding the world around me in a darkness that made it hard to navigate.

Static overwhelmed my head out of nowhere, causing my ears and nose to bleed as I ran. It slowed me down, forcing the pain in my arms, legs, lungs, and just overall, everywhere to amplify.

I stopped, no longer able to move my legs more than an inch before I fell to my knees. Sharp pains shot through my legs as I landed on my kneecaps, no doubt scraping them when they rubbed against the root they hand landed against.

Sticks poked into my skin, but I couldn't find it inside myself to care as I involuntarily dragged my eyes up. It was tall. Its suit was black, and it was somehow free of any dirt. Its face was a blank, white mask with no features.

It was...unsettling to say the least.

I wanted to scream, but I was frozen in place as I stared where its eyes should be. My heart felt like it skipped a beat, especially when a large, white hand began to reach down toward me. The fingers were inhumanly long, and its palm was larger than my head.

A gunshot resonated throughout the air. It rang in my skull, slicing through the static as if I were to slice cake with a knife. A ringing followed after, and I found that I couldn't hear much of anything.

The bullet had pierced the hand that was extended to me. I could see a dark liquid spray out, and the fingers flexed with pain. Its head turned away from me, no longer deeming me a major threat.

A figure swung in, but all I could see of it was a pale streak in the mix of the black. Metal struck the figure, and I saw the hauntingly white mask with black lips that belonged to Masky. He had a crowbar, and I doubted it did much damage compared to the gun.

Another gunshot sang in the air, hitting the same spot Masky had hit, before the clicking of a gun barely reached my ears. My eyes darted toward it, a sharp pain shooting through my neck and down my spine when I had moved it too fast.

The satisfying yellow of Hoody's iconic garment was visible to me in the blackness of the forest. Relief stirred in my gut and I quickly returned my eyes to the thing. Or as I could faintly recall...

The Operator.

The mark on my left felt as though it were on fire, burning more than any other part of my body. I wanted to clutch the area. I wanted to wail and cry. I wanted to break down. I just wanted to live a normal life with my family and friends. I wanted to attend college like any other normal person my age. I wanted to attempt to work toward achieving my dream job, no matter how far away from achieving it I was.

It was unfair.

So stupidly unfair.

These stupid soulmates.

This stupid universe.

Deciding I had to be tied to Hoody.

I was damned from the moment I was born.

I couldn't reassure my parents that their baby was okay.

Because I wasn't.

I was happy my friends didn't have to experience this.

But I feel so lonely in this scenario.

I know I'm not.

Hoody.

Skully.

Masky.

Everyone from their past.

They went through this.

And it was probably even worse than this.

A scream tore from my throat as I began openly weeping. I wasn't shocked to find the bullet hole on my stomach. I didn't even bother to care as Hoody raced up to me. I didn't bother to notice the obvious shock in Masky's expression.

This was all so fucking stupid.

A frown rested on my lips as I opened my eyes to see the dark room of my dorm. The blinds were drawn shut, blocking out any light. There was talking from beyond the window, making me realize it must have been some point in the day.

There was an arm draped over my waist and a face pressed into my back as I laid on my side. I glanced back, spotting Hoody's mess of blond hair. I reached out to grab my phone on the nightstand, taking note that the time was around ten in the morning on a Saturday.

I was going to fall back asleep in the warmth of Hoody's arms while trying to forget the horrible nightmare, but a knock at the door stopped me. I carefully pulled myself out of bed, trying not to disturb him with my movements.

I padded across the carpet and cold flooring with disdain as it chilled my warm feet. I pulled open the door, only to be shoved back into the room immediately.

The air was knocked out of me when I landed on my ass. The door clicked shut loudly, and I finally peered up at the intruder. Shock filled me as I saw the small frame of a familiar brunette.

"Stacy?"