The first memory X had was of panicking with gallons of water rushing down his throat.
And then the fear came, his instincts telling him that he was going to die. And then fear became pure unabated terror. Alexander could practically feel the razor thin blade of the Reaper's scythe at the back of his neck.
And then came a calm, and with it the darkness. Before he faded, one singular thought pushed itself into his mind. Who am I?
