I slept peacefully, you think? Oh, how wrong you are. In my dreams, the world twisted into a nightmare I couldn't escape, a desolate wasteland shrouded in perpetual twilight, where the air hung heavy with the stench of rot and sorrow. My friends, my parents—everyone I ever loved—surrounded me, their forms twisted into grotesque parodies of the people they once were. Their eyes, once filled with warmth and laughter, now burned with accusation, hollow and lifeless, as they hurled whatever came to hand: jagged rocks, splintered bones, even pieces of their own shattered bodies. "How did you survive?!" they screamed, their voices a cacophony of rage and sorrow, echoing like thunder in my skull, each word a dagger to my soul. "You left us alone to die!!! You abandoned us in the dark, you selfish coward!" I fell to the ground, the cold, muddy earth sucking at my skin like a grave, and sobbed uncontrollably. Tears streamed down my face, hot and relentless, mixing with the metallic tang of blood that seemed to seep from the air itself, staining my cheeks and blurring my vision. My heart ached with a pain so deep it felt like it was tearing apart—how could I have lived when they suffered so? I remembered the laughter we shared, the hugs, the promises of forever, and now... this. Their faces... they were horrors beyond imagining, but beneath the gore, I could still see traces of the people I cherished, making the betrayal cut even deeper. My best friend, Adolf, the one who'd always had my back through thick and thin, his visage was cleaved in half, one eye dangling from a thread of sinew, the other staring blankly with a flicker of the old mischief I missed so much. "You promised we'd stick together!" he howled, his voice cracking with hurt as he lobbed a rusted pipe that whistled through the air, grazing my arm and leaving a trail of fire. I wanted to reach out, to hold him, to apologize for every time I ran ahead without looking back. But he was gone, and I was here, alive and alone. Another friend, Hella, her hand hung by a frayed tendon, swinging like a grotesque pendulum as she flung it at me, the fingers twitching in mockery of the life we'd planned together—dreams of adventures, of growing old side by side. "Why did you leave me to rot?" she wept, her words dripping with anguish, each syllable a reminder of the love I'd failed to protect. Her other arm, mangled and bone-white, scooped up stones, hurling them with desperate fury. I cried harder, memories flooding back: her smile on our last picnic, the way she'd comfort me after a bad day. Now, she was a shadow of that, and the guilt crushed me like a vice. And my mother—oh God, my mother, the woman who'd cradled me as a child, sung lullabies to chase away the monsters. Her body was halved at the waist, the lower part a mangled ruin of exposed ribs and trailing intestines that left a slick, nauseating trail in the mud. Still, she crawled toward me on her elbows, her face twisted in anguish, tears of blood streaking her cheeks like rivers of sorrow. "Why you, and not us?" she wailed, her voice cracking like breaking glass, raw with the pain of a mother's love betrayed. "I gave you everything, and you let me die like this?" She scooped up handfuls of dirt and pebbles, hurling them with desperate fury, each stone striking like an accusation, bruising my flesh and piercing my heart. I begged her silently, Mom, I'm sorry—I'd trade places if I could. I miss you so much it hurts. But the words wouldn't come; only sobs escaped, as I watched her struggle, her eyes pleading for the son she'd lost. My father was worse—a torso only, his arms flailing wildly, his face a mask of betrayal etched with deep gashes that wept crimson, like wounds from a battle he'd fought alone. "You coward!" he roared, his words dripping with venom, but beneath the anger, I heard the heartbreak—the disappointment of a man who'd taught me to be strong, to protect those I love. He clutched screwdrivers in his remaining hands, their tips gleaming wickedly, and flung them one by one, each one embedding in the ground near me like threats. "I raised you better than this! How could you run while we bled out?" I curled tighter, flashes of memory hitting me: his proud smile at my first bike ride, the way he'd hug me after a nightmare. Dad, I tried... I swear I did. But I was scared, and now I'm haunted by it. The sadness overwhelmed me, a tidal wave of regret that made my chest tighten, my breath come in ragged gasps. The air grew thicker, colder, as if the dead were sucking the warmth from the world, their shadows writhing around them like living entities, whispering echoes of their screams. I could feel their pain seeping into me—a bone-deep ache that mirrored my own, amplifying the terror until it clawed at my mind. Was this punishment? A hell of my own making? I pleaded for mercy, for forgiveness, but the barrage continued, each projectile a reminder of my guilt, each cry a stab at my soul. The love I felt for them twisted into agony, the fear of their wrath mingling with the unbearable sorrow of loss. How could I ever wake from this? How could I face the world knowing I'd survived at their expense? The nightmare held me captive, a prison of emotion and horror, and in that moment, I wished for oblivion—just to escape the pain of loving them and failing them so utterly. Why couldn't I save them from Katsuo? I knew he was coming!