I wake up hot and sticky. The world around me has been melted away and all that is left are pools of lava and rock. My scream is over powered by those screaming around me. Everything burns, from head to toe I feel ignited by heat. I try to breathe and look around more. I don’t see anyone, but I can imagine from the screams what is happening. I try to stand up and a pain shoots through my left arm. I look and realize it’s pinned under a rock. I keep pulling until my arm is free. Do I look? My arm is unrecognizable, mangled, coved in blood and unmovable. I scurry to my feet and start running. I come across a river of water and put my working hand in, it’s boiling hot. I keep running until I come across a small opening. I crawl in and on the other side is more ruin. I push myself forward and come across more water, this one a bearable temperature. I dive in and the current takes me out onto a street. It looks like home, but overgrown. It feels familiar yet distantly strange. I wipe the tears from my eyes and start walking. I’m not sure how much time I have left before the lava reaches me, but I’ve already wasted so much energy. I spot a CVS down the street and head inside. I grab all the alcohol and bandages I can carry in one hand. I climb behind the pharmacy counter and get to work on my hand. My once bloody covered fingers are black and my hand has swelled. I grab a long forgotten bottle of water from behind the counter, it’s half full. I bite down on my shirt, preparing for the pain, turn my head, and pour the water on my hand. Nothing, I felt nothing. I looked back and my hand was oozing a clear pus. A new and strange smell shot through my nose. It reminds me of the dead armadillo I passed on my way to school when I was younger, the smell of old flesh. “You should cut it off. It’s gangrene.” Startled by this new voice, I jump. A tall, shaggy man was standing before me. “I can help you out if you’d like.” He pulls a machete out from behind his back and approaches me. I try to get up to run, but my index finger crumbles as I put pressure on my useless hand. He smiles, “I promise I’m here to help. It’ll only hurt a little.” I close my eyes and look away. I felt the cold machete kiss my skin. The room is silent, “alright, take a deep breath.” He lifts up the machete and my world turns black. I wake up with my arm wrapped tightly with gauze. Everything below my elbow is gone, but I can still feel it there. On my lap, a prescription, DILAUDID: Take as directed by your Doctor or see outsert for usual dosage information. Funny, my “doctor”is no where to be found.