I needed to do something. But my body had gone stiff and there was nothing that I could do. I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t think, and everything was starting to fade.
They had found me hiding out in that old abandoned building. It was right by the water, I thought it would be a way of escape. But it ended up being a good way of dumping my body. Even though I tried to fight them, they easily overpowered me. And I was tied to a cement block and thrown to the fishes. I was dead. I knew that. But unfortunately it wasn’t over, it never was. You see, to me, death isn’t some “go to sleep and never wake up”. No. It’s much worse than that.
Every time I “die” I wake up the next day, or week depending on how badly my body was torn up, in a new body exactly the same as the one before it. But with one “improvement” as they called it.
After waking up the last time I discovered that I was taller. And the one before that my hair was a di