At least that’s what I heard as the left side of my face was flash-burned by the blast. Like when Slain hit me, memory fills in the gaps of what must have happened. Flying through the air in a cloud of flying shrapnel, light and heat and noise.

But here’s the real memory: cold water, of all things. The right side of my face numb and hurting at the same time. I tried to push myself up and pain tore through my right shoulder and back and my arm collapsed beneath me. The right half of my body hurt a lot more at that point – I was oblivious, right then, of how badly my left had been burned and shredded by the explosion.

I couldn’t see Mandy’s body – still assuming too many things, I assumed it was under the rubble. In retrospect…

I could see Slain’s body, though, a bloody mess in the middle of the debris. Me, I’d been propelled through the air and driven through the wall of the toilet stall, where the dirty toilet nearly broke my neck but instead settled for smashing my clavicle, scapula and humerus.