She was dead. At least, she thought she was. Everything was so dark, and she felt like she was floating. She’d drifted along this dark ocean for a long time, and had assumed that this was what happened after death.
But if that was true, why could she still hear the rain.
Then she felt it, the ocean fall away, replaced by a lumpy mattress, the darkness receded, and light began to slip though. Only the rain stayed constant, slamming against a small window behind her. Slowly, she dared to open her eyes, and was bombarded by shapes and colors, all out of focus and attacking her at once.
She blinked a few times and when her sight returned completely, she found she was staring up at a rickety old ceiling fan, spinning wildly and dangerously close to falling.
There was a light coming from a corner, pointing out the peeling wallpaper and muddy color of the carpet, and giving the small room an eerie glow. She tried to sit up, and saw that she was in a small apartment, the only other room being a small bathroom in the corner, before being engulfed in a wave of dizziness that took her strength and forced her back to the bed.
She lay there unmoving for another few minutes before trying again, this time managing to ward off any spells of dizziness or nausea.
There he was, sitting across from her, a true predator, his eyes watching her every move intently.
The man from the alley; her savior, her killer.
He stood and walked towards her, yet this time she did not feel afraid, only a strange sort of contentment as he put his hand on her forehead and gently pushed her back to the mattress.
“Sleep,” was all he said, and she had no choice but to comply.
He smiled, ever so slightly, watching her still form. He loved her eyes, and was almost sad to see her close them.
They were still dead, just as dead as they had ever been.
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