"It's okay... You're okay," a familiar male voice whispered repeatedly into her ear.

Dorothy struggled to open her eyes, gasping for breath. Her gaze landed on her blood-soaked hand, and she nearly lost consciousness again.

"It's not your blood," the person whispered.

"Then whose is it?" The moment she asked, her eyes caught sight of a lifeless, familiar man in front of her. She wanted to scream—badly—but the words wouldn’t come out.

Slowly, the memories started ...