There’s a fist in my chest. I think its made of lead. The lead is spreading to my limbs. I know I won’t be able to move soon, in fact, I can’t even move now. A part of me is screaming in terror, another part is wondering how I could let this happen, how it could happen, but I still can’t move, still can’t be interested in anything other than just lying face down in the mud, spread eagled, till slowly the water seeps past my nose and mouth and I can’t breathe. I have constant headaches, before I sleep, right after I wake up, till the slow almost unnoticeable pain wears me down, wears down my resistance and my ability to think or act. And then the wee black devils that are always poking their little shards from hell do their most damage. I think I’ll go sleep a little more now, my head aches. I can’t seem to remember very well.