“Irma.” A hazy, foggy, voice suddenly spoke. You have heard that voice somewhere. You jump at the sound of your dead friend's voice. Bruce. You turn around and find him staring right at you. He was pale and he had a huge cut on his head, blood running down to his neck, and a dry stab stain on the upper area of his chest. His clothes were dirty and covered in blood. He was dead.

“Don't freak out.. Please do not freak out.” He spoke gently as he saw your confused and shocked expression.