We sit at one of the tables in the bar, me and Samuel. Our eyes are wide and vigilant, yet stare into nothing. We lay there silently for several minutes, contemplating abstract thoughts, as life goes on around us normally as ever, as if we are the anomalies among these wretched things.

The bartender brings our order, leaving it on the table in front of us, glancing at us with his eyeless gaze, the sound of clinking cutlery and porcelain shaking the muffled conversations and the TV, but doing little to shake us off of our introspection.

I slowly stare down our breakfast. The sandwich looks delicious, and the coffee is smoking flagrantly, inviting me in. My stomach rumbles with hunger. When was the last time I ate?

Nervously, my shaking hand slowly reaches for the bread. At this point, I expect it to be filled with eyeballs and gore, or some other disgusting thing. But no. The inside of the bread is utterly normal, with ham, cheese, mayo... the things you'd expect for a normal sandwich.

So I take the coffee cup with my sweaty fingers, clinking the porcelain gently, half expecting it to have blood, bone meal, or other special "sauce" inside. Alas, it was just normal coffee. I take a hesitant sip. Just plain black, strong coffee.

I look up to find Samuel looking at me with a worried expression.

- The sandwich is made out of sandwich. - I say this absurd phrase, slightly delirious.

But he remains unshaken, leading me to believe I missed the real question. He must have realized that, as he shakes his head slowly, acting all weird again.

Without further ado, we both take on our sandwiches and devour them. I ate mine a little too fast. It was delicious, tasteful, moist, and meaty, mayo oozed from my fingers as I squeezed it down.

A lingering satisfaction washes over me, I can't help but release a small moan. It tastes like home, like infancy, just like...

Just like mommy used to make.

Mom...

It comes back to me. The last visage I had from Mother, splattered in her bed with Dad, in a formless mass.

I drop the sandwich onto my plate, my hands trembling violently as I freeze in place. A sharp pain grips my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs, and my face contorts in agony. Tears blur my vision, streaming down my cheeks in an uncontrollable torrent.

Mom... oh, Mom. The words catch in my throat, choked by sorrow and regret. I never got the chance to tell her how much I loved her, how sorry I am for everything.

And on top of that, I'll have to live with that last image of them.

I instinctively fold my arms, hugging myself as my body drops. God, but it hurts so much...

The last time I talked to them, I said horrible things. And now, they were reduced to a pile of living gore, left behind with the monsters...

I didn't even get to tell them how much I loved them for always worrying about me, despite me being a horrible daughter...

Oh my god... Why, why did this have to happen... It's all my fault...

And now the world has gone mad, human limb markets, slave trains...

I can't take this anymore. This is too much...

It would all be better if I just-...

- Sarah!

Samuel voice takes me off of my despair, with a hand shaking my shoulder.

I'm startled, and still beaten, but most of all, I'm scared at how fast I started to break down. This could have been a quick road to a dead end. I have several slash scars in my forearm to prove it.

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- I... I'm fine... - I say in a sad tone, as I wipe my face with my trembling hands.

He gives me a concerned look but relaxes a bit.

- Sarah, baby girl, I know you must be shaken... - He pauses.

Yes, "shaken" to say the least.

- ... But we need to talk. - He says, very serious now.

___________________________________

From all the impossible things I've experienced since arriving back in this city, it was his question right now that shocked me the most of all.

I just stare at him horrified, as tears of sadness give way to tears of anger.

- What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Samuel?! If I am "really Sarah"?! - I hissed.

He squirms awkwardly at my response, regretting his poor choice of words, as usual.

- What? Would that be surprising by now? - he says, defensively

I just can't believe his nerve in asking something like that right now.

- Look... - He continues - I saw what you did yesterday, you know? Do you remember how we got out of your house?

I roll my eyes in anger.

- Of course, Samuel! Because I don't remember last night entirely, it must mean I'm not Sarah! You're a freaking genius! Has it occurred to you that I may be slightly traumatized?!

I could see Sam's inquietude as I lashed out at him. He was never good when fighting back at me before. Guess he was getting ready to say his punchline, because what he said next completely took my breath away.

- That's not what I meant. Sarah, you transformed into a monster and got us out of your house.

Huh, so that must be what a man feels when his girlfriend tells him she is pregnant.

I must say, this day keeps on giving. I'm having to come up with new feelings to feel the things I have to deal with.

A pause to swallow what he just said, and I close my eyes, breathe deeply, then open them up and stare at Sam's face.

He nods poignantly. I laugh manically.

- You sure we didn't escape through the door or the window?

- Really, Sarah? Cornered in your bathroom, with nowhere to go?

I can't help but press my brows by now, as the story starts to sound less crazy, and that is paradoxically crazy.

- Samuel...

He fidgets with the cutlery, looking around anxiously.

- Sarah, people are selling their own limbs in the streets now. Like, literally. I can see from here. - he says, all stuttering - The bar to what is considered unreal dropped really low. This is not something to just wonder about, it's a simple fact of life now.

I rue the day Samuel became the voice of reason, but... I guess I'm not ready to leave denial just yet.

Let me sit here, just for a little while more.

- Sarah...? - Samuel's voice breaks me once again from my stupor, with a reassuring squeeze in my hand.

I sigh, melancholy filling my head, but I fake a timid smile.

- I'm fine. I just... - I let my face fall in my hand in despair, staring at him from between my fingers- what the hell am I supposed to do with this information, Sam?

His worried expression shifts as he seems to consider his answer until he finally says.

- We need to... find out what that means.

We stare at each other in silence for a moment, digesting both breakfast and what he said. I go for a sip of my coffee and finish what remains of my sandwich, not as eager to eat as I was before.

- What does it mean to be able to transform into a monster...?

He shrugs.

- About... all this stuff, I think?

I think for a moment when realization suddenly struck me:

- Samuel... The graft hoax from before, do you remember it?!

He squeezes his forehead for a moment, then widens his eyes:

- Oh my god... Yes, it was all over the news and the internet. Do you think...

I roll my eyes at his dumbness. Yes, I do think!

- What else? - I sigh, overwhelmed by the revelation of a trashy hoax becoming real - Whatever happened to those people in the news spread through all our town while we were away.

I gulp down as I say these words looking to the TV, whose national news suggests it's not just our town that is affected, if the reporter's third arm is any indication.

- What, like a virus or something?! - Says Sam, exasperated.

- I don't know, Sam, what kind of virus does something like that? - I can't help but start to feel very anxious as I realize what is happening - Whatever it is, I think it's safe to assume it's the end of humanity as we know it, Sam. We are survivors now.

A moment of silence as the last sentence weighs in on both of us. It's not an easy task to come to peace with the fact that the world has ended, particularly when you add up all the other traumas so far.

- This feels like a bad dream... - the words come out of Sam's mouth almost like a whisper, as he stares down in disbelief - So now what? Do we just try to "fit in"?

I stagger as I speak, unsure of myself.

- I don't know, Sam, I doubt that's an option if last night is any indication.

- Those creatures tried to maim us, yet they don't seem to care. What does that mean?

- I don't know. - Sigh, I'm growing tired of saying that - We don't know anything that is going on yet. We can't move on before we understand what we are dealing with.

It's about time we get to the bottom of this. There must be an explanation for whatever is happening around us. Whatever happened while we were off-grid, there is bound to be some clue of it somewhere, preferably on the internet.

I scramble my ragged trousers for my phone, and find it miraculously intact, although now with several cracks in the screen, but still working.

I quickly research the major social media and search engine sites, in search of a clue, and I quickly learn this: absolutely nothing. Only normal media, photos, and memes containing people with extra and missing limbs in impossible fashions, as if this was always the norm.

Samuel and I exchange looks for a moment, unsure of what to do next. But whatever it is, it involves leaving that door back to Horror Avenue.