The night air was silent.
The industrious sound of the city was dead.
The shadows loom and daunt your every step, every movement, every flicker of the eye.
Not even the stars dare show their faces tonight.
There’s a man.
He holds a knife in his hand.
With that same hand he touches my face, his callous fingertips hard on my skin.
I’m scared. Scared he’s going to kill me.
His fingers continue down, down my neck.
I can’t see his eyes. Can’t see anything but the far away door with light shining through it.
Someone calls my name.
The man tears my skin with the tip of his blade as he turns around.
There’s someone standing in the doorway.
Someone’s screaming.
Someone calls my name again.
There’s no longer someone in the doorway. They’ve entered the room.
My neck is burning. Someone is still screaming. The sound hurts my ears.
Someone calls my name.
Then I hear it. The sound of stop-beating. Someone’s heart has made the sound of stop-beating. The sound is deafening.

