Publisher's Synopsis
I was Dead. When the medical examiner cut away the clothes that covered my lifeless corpse to perform the routine autopsy, he saw the warning that I had etched into the cold dead flesh that was once the skin that covered my flat stomach: The time of my death was 3:15 AM. The cause of my death was a lethal dose of Morphine that was injected directly into my heart. My death was ruled as a homicide, But there's only one problem with that. I am still here, and now I have a little vendetta to take care of. -Xenon 54 He appeared so confused as to why the CSI team didn't mention that there were words cut into my skin. He turned to get his camera so he could document this newly found evidence in the case of my murder. When he turned to take the picture, I cut the lights. I didn't want that message to fall into the wrong hands. Using the fire of my wrath, I burned my body in the darkness. Watching it burn was liberating. When the lights came on any resemblance of me was gone. To the human world I, Xenon Aira, was gone, but hate doesn't die that easily.
