The first thing I notice is the rope.

The next thing, the body.

It wasn't swinging, as it should. Like the 'Game of Thrones' characters- like a pendulum. It was still. There was a table lying on its sides- askew, underneath him.

All of a sudden, I was very, very scared.

Downright, fucked up, crazy afraid.

I was alone in a room with a dead body, wrought with the breath of suicide.

My heart was thudding like crazy; I took a step forward (forward? You ask. Forward. I say. I'm an idiot.). I take in detail. Lots of detail at once.

The table. Dark in the absence of light. No windows. A branch jutting oddly through the ceiling. Some broken chairs, on all fours, still standing upright. Some stiff, sharp, twisted iron rods poking out from the grounds at odd angles. The body. White, white, dead. It looks new. An older one would have had a smell to it. Someone. Killed himself in this place and I'm still... A book. I see a book. I go on and pick it up (I AM CRAZY!!). It's hardbound in black. Inside- inked handwritten words on a blank background page. With a title-

'A Research File'

- A description on the poets and their killings. With additional data on 'Dreams and Pages'- the incinerated work of a lesser known card player- Leia.

I look at the hanging body again.

"Don't move." My heart definitely skipped a beat. It almost gave out. A voice from behind me. Female, shaky. "Or I swear I'll stab this fucking thing into you." I was all too aware of the knife in my pocket. She was scared. Bad thing I was too.

"Get down." I do so. I hear footsteps approaching. They were being muffed by the wet, decaying floorboards. "Who are you?" she asks.

"A Breather." I reply.

She kicks me. Hard. On the base of my back.

"Zero." I say again.

Silence. Two or three seconds. I turn to look back and see the knife approaching. Fast, fast, fast...like a bullet. Cutting through words to get me. I push off sideways, roll, try standing up. I slip and my head hits a chair. The chair shifts and I fall again. The dead body is still. Insouciant to happening.

Detail- black outfit of the woman. More like rags. Dark waist length hair. And strong. Strong. Firm. Shaky, yes, but firm. A cut on her forehead.

She comes for me again. Maniacal looking. I stand up and wait. My head throbbing now. The cut on my cheek stings when the sweat hits it. My heart beating faster now. And I can hear it speak (tick, ha, ha, tock... you're dying. You're dead). She stabs again as I get away. Her knife sinks into the wall. "Fuck you!" she screams at me. She gets out her knife and turns. We look at each other. I notice her breath. Ragged, and laboured. I have an urge to laugh. I'm insane. She's not smiling. She's just staring. She looks angry. Angry and determined. Her chest rises up and then drags her down. Silence. Stillness. The corpse of the man needs a girl. This bitch is trying to kill me. Don't hurt her! My heart screams. I don't want to. I'm scared. She's scared. And scared people take drastic measures. She runs towards me. She's running at me and I see detail.

I feel the detail.

She's running and she slips. A short-lived projectile. Her knife slips and she starts skidding. So slowly, that I... I see the iron rod poking out just at that angle. And the black book's just beside it. She tries stopping, her eyes wide. Her mouth wide. Shock. Closer, closer... I don't wish this. I didn't hate her. I didn't even know her. But it happened. She went faster. The rod simply goes through her throat.

Silence.

The fate of God works in weird ways.

The hanging dead man gets his bloody dead woman. Symmetry in nature is always appreciated.

I'm wet with sweat. I'm sure my mouth is wide and my eyes are screaming large. Taking in.

The blood creeps through the floor. Reaching. Reaching for me. I back and hit the wall.

A dead woman. Blood draining her.

A dead man. Laughing at the flimsy rope keeping him from falling.

Me.

In a single room.

I try picking up the hardbound book but it slips. I didn't realise that the blood had reached the book and lathered its pages. I look at the book and I look at my hands. Bloody. Red, red, red! Sweaty. I look around frantically and see two dead people. They are the only things I can see.

Holy shit. Holy fuck!

The silence is cut by a voice. A bodiless whisper that is only too loud. That stabs through my skin to get to my heart and doesn't stop. An absolutely human female scream. It reaches my soul and tears it into pieces. My eyes are brimming. Scared. Shitty scared. I grab the book and run.

Run.

Run.

Run.

Cause the night is chasing you.