I’ve always had it pretty good. No golden touch or anything, but I’ve managed to avoid a lot of the bad stuff in life. I don’t really ever get sick. I’ve never been dumped. I’ve never lost a loved one to a horrible disease.
Now I’m sitting here, at least one of my legs is broken, I can’t feel anything below my left elbow, and I can barely see through the warm blood dripping down in to my eyes. I get the feeling, as the guttural snarling closes in around me, that my luck might finally have run out.