I awoke to find myself driving down a dark expanse of road, bloody hand prints on the inside of the windows and windshield. Only a vague sense of numbness- like anesthesia wearing off- kept me from slamming on the brakes or panicking. Instead, I lifted my foot off the gas and let the car slow down gradually.

Once the car stopped, I was able to take in the details around me. Dried blood coated my hands. I didn’t know where I was. The sky was black, but not like it was night. There were no stars, only a hungry void where incoherent whispers spoke my name. I screamed in frustration but I couldn’t hear it. I couldn’t hear anything at all. My hearing was gone.

My hands hit the horn again and again. Nothing but futile effort. I didn’t even hear the slap of flesh on plastic. Desperate, I tapped my ears and was horrified when my fingers came away sticky with blood. Too much. It was too much for me to deal with.

The last thing I recalled was stepping into the bus that took me home.

Why had I been fired today?