The light was bright and it hurts his eyes, so he was squinting. The air was dirty and it coated his throat almost instantly as he bent over coughing.

The noise of screaming was deafening, it was a cheering sound, but with the disturbing twist of obvious blood lust in the voice of the crowd.

He was trying to remember where he was. The last thing he remembered was writing in the sand, on the beach. He realized he was still dreaming as he felt the sudden urge to spin around.

Coming directly at him was another man, holding a knife, and he could finally make out that the two were in a fighting ring, and the crowd wanted him dead.

His thoughts quickly went to the woman he had been with on the beach. He hadn’t known her, but it felt right to be with her, like he was supposed to be in love with her.

He didn’t know this man, but for reasons he couldn’t understand, he knew that he had to kill him. It was then that he noticed that he also had a knife in his hand.

He let out a scream as he rushed the man.