All of my reminiscing stopped when I leaned back in the darkness and felt an object slice deeply into my left wrist. My new wrist. I clumsily picked up the object and it was instantly recognizable. It was a small triangle of glass. The blood felt like it was exiting pretty rapidly from my wrist, so I shined my light on the area that felt damaged.
But the ray of light wandered. Sure, it pointed itself briefly at the gash, but almost as if the light was anxiously saying "C'mon, man, how many times do I have to illuminate injury! This is retarded! Show me something elllllssseeee," it decided to wander. It landed on the shard of glass, which wasn't just…glass. It was a shard from a broken mirror! And when the light hit it, mirror threw it back in my eyes, and for the first time since I woke up here, I saw my new face. My…dead face.
It's hard to hold a pen in my claw, but I figure that I owe it to whoever finds these papers to put some kind of face to the words, even if it's a face that was never supposed to look like…this.
What…
Happened to me?