Cold.

The body is cold.

The coldness of other bodies didn't bother me, I'd felt it a million times, but not a cold like this.

The last time I felt this way, was four months ago, New York. I was posted with the S.W.A.T Team over there, a drug bust. We came upon the warehouse like a pack of wolves, no warning. Bullets flew, people got shot. Jack got shot. I remember dragging him into cover, crimson blood following closely behind.

He lay there, howling in pain. Blood oozing out of every hole in his upper body. His hands got cold, he got cold. Life ripped from his body, till his eyes lulled into emptiness.

Acrimony overtook, nothing but cold everywhere.

It wasn't until after I realized Jack's life returned to his eyes, but life did not return to him. He crawled towards his comrade, teeth tore flesh from bone.

Cold.

She's cold.

Not like the others.

She's alive, deep down in her body.

Mind twisted against will.

She lives, I know it.