The boy was running. He wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop. There was no turning back, no defeat. It seemed like he was running faster than ever; it was as though he was being chased by something horrendous, and luck was not on his side.

He just kept running, on and on. Through the darkness and towards a small beam of light, but the light didn't get any bigger as he ran. It wasn't coming closer and he was losing energy.

There was a deafening cry behind him, which stopped him in his tracks. His breath faltered. He turned slowly to face the direction he had been running from. If someone was hurt, then...

He moved closer to where the sound had come from, and let out a scream of his own at the sight.

Lying there, in a pool of dark red liquid, was his own body.

He lay there.

And he was dead.