Guilty By Innocence

Prologue El Paso, TX Late Fall Cold. Pain. Floating and yet so heavy. Sensory details flooded his mind, but they only confused him. Where am I? What’s happened? He realized then that odors were the most insistent cue. Hot, metallic—the raw, thick scents of fresh blood and terror. Holy Mother, what’s happened? Sticky moisture seemed to coat his skin, growing crustier by the minute. The fingers of his right hand clenched around something hard, solid. His hand hurt, but he could not let go. He clutched it with unremitting urgency. Next, he heard a low, anguished moan followed by the building scream of sirens. Then the scariest question of all entered his mind: Who am I? He could not come up with a name or even a single trace of an identity. Before utter terror overcame him, he let the dark weight of silence close over him like water.