The scleras of his eyes were dark blood-red. He slowly approached me, almost as if in a trace. I felt the coldness of the wall behind me as I my back pressed against it. He leaned in towards me. “Please…” I whispered. “I’m not ready…”
“No-one is ever ready.” He hissed through his teeth, “But you must go.”
I winced at his words, and watched helplessly as he drew out a small but deadly knife. “Goodbye.” He whispered.
Darkness swirled around me and I began floating upwards. I stared at my crumpled body on the ground, and the man standing over it holding his knife stained with blood at his side.
Only a memory now. I was gone.