"Good one-" comes out of your mouth as the figure swiftly moves its arms diagonally. You stop talking and feel your chest get wet with something warm. The cut on your throat prevents you from speaking any further. You collapse on the floor as you think of your friends, your family, those who you have met and those that were still to come. You wonder if life could be the fever dream of an alien. You hear words being spoken but you do not understand them nor you want to. Silence crawls into your mind. You are dead.