Excerpt from Imaginary Novel? (first and last line of famous novel)

Once upon a time, there was a woman who discovered she had turned into the wrong person. Click. And she didn't hear the blast, a deafening silence only she could detect. The man lay dead on the floor, scarlet ribbons streaming around him. No, he couldn't possibly be dead. She couldn't have killed him. And all of this must have been a dream.

Of course it wasn't, but she hoped it would be. The thing became too heavy the bear. Metal clanked, the floor vibrating. A small child wailed in fear, but he was harnessed to her back. She couldn't comfort him. "I told you... I told you not to follow me," she whispered, briefly hoping for an answer. A chunk of splattered brain coldly ignored her.

Her phone buzzed. With hesitation, she answered. "Yes?"

"...I lost you and Echo, are you alright?"

She looked from the corpse to the pudgy hand scratching her shoulder.

"We're alive."

"Hold tight, reinforcements coming."

And they were stranded in the middle of a parking lot, a sliver of moon illuminating the crusting stains on her hands. The only thing she wanted was a hot shower. Every siren made her flinch and every unnatural light was a signal for her immediate arrest. And her baby... her baby taken from her. "Please hurry..."

It was far too long before they arrived in their armored van, as they were wont to do. The door opened to a man with a shotgun. And it was then she actually felt sick. Years of running, giving birth to a child a spitting image of her, likely with her own abilities, only for it all to culminate in her first murder. She cried. It was a fine cry - loud and long - but it had no bottom and it no top, just circles and circles of sorrow.