Grant’s perspective:

Blurred red hues splattered about me. I can’t quite take in what is happening. I reach my hands out to touch but feel nothing. Where am I?

“Come with me. Hurry.” I hear the faint cry of my mother’s voice. She repeats herself again and again and again. The volume of her scream grows with every repetition until the shrill screech feels like a strong man’s hands are gripped tight around my brain and trying to press out every last drop ...