O ... okay. Um.
>Find a hospital.
Naturally, your first thought is to haul ass to the nearest hospital. You look around as if hoping one will magically be in front of you.
...Oh look it's a hospital. The sign says it's KING'S MEDICAL CENTER.
Aren't hospitals for people who are still alive, though? You wonder if they can do anything for zokaynoyoudontwanttosaythatword
... Besides, it looks empty. There aren't any lights on or anything and the windows are kind of totally broken. There's not much else to be seen, except for a pile of corpses over there that you already decided to pretend were just props from a tv show or something.
>Can you still speak? This is important; if you cannot speak as normal, please try to learn Morse Code.
Stirring your vocal cords, you call out a wishy-washy hello to the empty street. Your voice is pretty groggy, but to your relief you don't sound super dead. Your neck wounds must only be skin-deep.
Nothing happens. It remains eeriely calm and peaceful.
>Examine your left eye more closely.
Time to take stock of the damage. Nothing on you hurts, but you decide to feel up yourself in a decidedly squeamish, nonsexual manner anyway.
There is definitely no longer an eyeball present. Mr. Eye has left
This would bother you more if you weren't already freaking out about other things. Actually apart from the loss of sight it's kind of cool oh my god does this mean you get to wear an eyepatch and be a pirate AN UNDEAD PIRATE HOLY SMOKES
The rest of the damage seems minimal, except for the cuts on either side of your neck and these two huge wounds coming from the corners of your mouth. You recognize that someone has given you a Glasgow smile, shortly before ... death ... since the gashes haven't healed whatsoever. They sort of fused together through dried blood, but you think they would rip again if you opened your mouth too widely.
This is unpleasant. What'd you do to deserve that?
Ugh whatever you pull up your shirt to make sure your intestines aren't falling out or something what OH SWEET JESUS YOU'RE GONNA BE SICK
WHERE THE FUCK DID YOUR BOOBS GO THERE WERE DEFINITELY BOOBS THERE A WHILE AGO
... You -- you decide not to check your legs. After a quick once-over through the fabric everything seems mostly intact, anyway.
>suddenly become overwhelmed with the urge to feed!... on spaghetti.
You think you remember that you love pasta, but after looking at all of that viscera you aren't very hungry. Or maybe you're more hungry. You aren't sure, it's kind of fuzzy. You could probably go for some candy, though. Assuming you can still taste things.
oh god wait are you supposed to eat people
>Take a moment to have a crisis.
This is all too much. You promise yourself you'll get back to investigating everything the minute you stave off the unholy and paralyzing knowledge that you are STONE-COLD DEAD.