She is twenty-two. She is lonely. She's currently disappearing. You don't need to know any more than that. Really - you don't even need to remember her name. None of this will come back later. She's no one in particular.  She's just here so you can insert yourself in her shoes, as she goes on a thrilling adventure. So, don't feel bad about what's happening here. 

  She wonders who will mourn her. How long will it take until they know she's gone at all? First her fingers, then her wrists, then her arms - the one she broke in second grade falling off the rope swing, and the other one that she'd never thought about before. It happens faster now, her shoulders, her thighs. The stump of her torso falls to the floor. She hits her head. That's still there, but her nose is starting to feel less. What will be the last bit of her left? The heart? The brain? 

 The soul? 

 Then I woke up. I wasn't me. I knew that straight away, because I was sitting in front of a mirror. A startled stranger blinked, confused, back at me. There was something on her shirt. I looked down. Dark red. 

 Blood? I thought absently. 

 Blood.

 It couldn't be anything else, staining the whole front of this shirt, thick and dry to the touch. Below me was a great pool of it. Enough that I shouldn't have much left. I knelt down, staring at the picture before me, trying make any of it make sense. Then I saw the knife. 

 Yeah, I'd known from the start we weren't following the story.