I was the body, the body being dragged. The one everyone was looking for so frantically; yet, I could not be found. They would find me eventually, crippled and a heaping mess. A sense of disgorgement about my bones leaving me buried in a position not describable by geometry nor the corner. I knew it was coming, I could feel time slow as I was dragged. Even though I was on the peak of consciousness I was aware of my body. Almost in a third perspective, one of insight into my surroundings. It seems strange, I guess the world looks different when you're about to die; maybe one is able to see the extraordinary before death, before they enter death eternal. Only those who are truly destined to die envision it, that's why one never hears about it nor sees it until it's too late. Perhaps the effect was exponentially greater due to the loss of blood. My brain starved of oxygen resulting in an euphoric state. Maybe God created the mind to perceive euphoria out of mercy. Regardless, the fire in my side wasn't suppressed. I can't think clearly enough to remember, only clearly enough to feel. I didn't know who was dragging me either; at this point I didn't care. I'm helpless, a twisted feeling on its own, nonetheless feeling helpless when you know you aren't safe. A feeling I would never want to suffer, even masked in intoxication. That is why I'm the man dragging the body.