The sky is deep but not nearly as dark. The last I ate were the stale bread in the morning and the fear in the afternoon. Death in the night? I was exhausted. Step one, step two. We kept walking. Me, all too aware of the metal pressing against the small of my back. And I had a knife. Should I...

They took us back to the manor. They left us in front of the door and walked away. They made no move to attack us. Walter was as shocked as I was. I looked back.

They were wearing black sweatshirts and black jeans. One was a girl. I could tell by her curves and her frizzy hair peeking out from the sides of her hood. Her male counterpart was limping. It was bizarre. Two ghosts with an unknown purpose, walking out towards the fake twilight.

For me, I had stopped thinking. Day one felt like eternity. I kept blocking out questions, the conversations, the corpses...all except one-

"Why am I here?" I blurted out.

Walter looked at me, his head tilted, and for a second, I thought I saw him smile. "Because God wanted you to die." He said, and knocked the wood.

Finally, stillness. We got plates, took our rice and salad (the only things on the menu), and found benches. Back to the old colour- grey. Some, me included, were wearing black. I kept hoping that there wouldn't be something new to take in- some new drama, death, or scene. Cause my head was crammed full of thoughts. Thankfully, nothing 'out of the ordinary' happened. People ate in silence and for once, I didn't look up to observe.

I felt every eye stare at me. The, the, the room was white, white, white, with a hint of red. So thick and deep, deep, deep and coming out, bubbling out from her heart, heart, heart. I killed her. I smiled, smiled, smiled and heard the clock go tick, tick, tick, and tock, tock, tock. I heard the click, click, click of the gun. I laughed, laughed, laughed at her corpse, corpse, corpse. Oh, I set a ring around the roses. A pocket full of poses. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!

Pick me up, up, up dearest. I'm- hee, hee, hee- dying! I'm sleeping in your grave, grave, grave!

Sudden longing fills me up with blood and now I'm drowning.

That, people, was a memory. A completely irrelevant piece of disturbing shit I suddenly remembered. But I didn't remember how that was related to me. I felt the sudden urge to vomit. The rice was white, white, white. My mouth, red, red, red. Sometimes (but only sometimes), I hate the colours. We finished and I told Walter that I didn't remember where my room was. He said there are no specified rooms and that I could sleep in the one opposite to where he sleeps.

We climbed the stairs, walked the alley. He told me I was to be in room number 666. I asked him why number 666 was in the first floor. He shrugged. We walked to our rooms, bade night and closed the door. I switched on the light and the tube flickered once then shone white. That's when I saw the note. On the opposite wall. I walked up to it. It was on yellow paper- one of those 'sticky notes'. It was written in red ink, in a focused, neat handwriting- 'it begins tonight. The killing of you poets. And you're number 77. I'm watching. You can't escape. You will die.

I don't remember the hardbound black book slipping from my hands and hitting the floor, opening it to a particular page. I don't remember a stronger urge to dissolve. I don't remember being able to sleep with a serial killer watching me from the ceiling.

Suddenly, I look up.

I see something deeply unsettling.

I see nothing.

I don't remember being this scared, twice, in a single day. And with the feeling of being watched, this feeling of being herded and collected in a place for butcher, I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep again.

I was wrong.