A mix of disgust, fear, and despair.

“Get dressed,” Sara’s voice, quiet and filled with sympathy, slipped into my ears. “There’s no other way. I’ll take off the boots now.”

I nodded almost imperceptibly. Thank the heavens that I wasn’t forced to strip the clothes off the corpse myself.

Shaking, I unbuttoned my jeans, kicked off my shoes, pushing them carelessly away from me. My legs quivered. Weakness washed over me, making me stagger and nearly fall, only managing to catch myself against the wall. It felt like I was choking; swallowing was unbelievably difficult and painful. When I started pulling off my jeans, my cold fingers refused to obey.

A persistent voice in my head kept telling me not to do it. To stay in my own clothes, to put on my shoes, and to grab a cup of strong coffee from my favorite café, bursting into the sunny, warm autumn day, wrapped in multicolored leaves and untainted by reality. The voice soothed me, whispered that none of this was real, that I just needed to close my eyes – and then I would wake up in my own bed, the scent of fresh chocolate cake filling my home. I’d open my eyes, and all the difficult years past would be just a dream, and today would be nothing more than the end of a nightmare before waking. I would stand up, hug the person who meant more to me than my own life, and sigh, choked but happy; because I hadn’t lost that person, and it was only a bad dream… The voice was so convincing, and the image so vivid, that I slid down the wall, tears choking me.

I desperately wanted to run away. To hide, to shut myself off. My mind replayed every detail of what was happening, torturing me…

No, today I wouldn’t give up. I had promised that I would never give up. And if that means putting on the clothes of a corpse to go with the Gorgons, then I will do it.

Whining and wiping my tears away, I finally tossed my jeans aside. For a split second, I froze, staring at the pants. Breathe in. Breathe out. I started putting them on, trying to think of something else.

The fabric was still warm from the body of its previous owner. A shiver of disgust and horror slithered down my spine. Her body hadn’t even had time to cool down yet.

The buttons were hard to fasten; I was sure the uniform was new. Unable to hold back, I covered my mouth with the back of my hand and bit down on my skin to stifle a scream.

At that moment, Sara approached.

“It’s almost over,” she said as gently as she could, placing a pair of high boots with heavy soles in front of me.” So… You work as a journalist, right?” The girl asked, crouching down. ”And your name is…?” The soldier was trying to distract me, to break through the oncoming hysteria with casual conversation. I swallowed, sitting down on the floor and pulling the boots closer

“Yes, I’m a journalist…” I replied haltingly, trying to put on the boots quickly to shorten the torment, but my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. I couldn’t manage to tie the laces. In frustration, I let the laces fall, embracing myself at the shoulders. “Stephanie,” I breathed out the name. “My name is Stephanie Shayer.”

The girl nodded heavily and, unexpectedly, knelt down, leaning forward and deftly tightening the laces on my now boots. Stunned, I couldn’t force out a single word.

“Steph, kitten, – can I call you “Steph?” She said, looking into my eyes, and my lips quivered into a weak semblance of a smile when she clarified the form of my name but not the way she would address me.” I know, this is pure horror, but we need to get out of here as soon as we can.”