The knife rested in the palm of her hand. She stared at it, marveling at the dark red glistening on the blade. She waited for the horror to set in. She ignored the life slipping away, the breath quickly fading.

Everything was very still. Nothing moved. Time paused, impatient to resume. Justice and vengeance meant nothing now. One pain ended, segueing into this searing terror.

She fell to her knees, gripping the knife’s handle. Her lifeline, her one solid connection to reality. She turned her hand, let the dark red glistening drip on to her skin. Still so warm. Her hand started to shake and the knife fell to the floor. The echo of the knife’s fall reverberated against her heart.

Nothing to hold, nothing solid but the floor. She took a deep breath, but it stopped midway. She sank lower, seeking the comfort of the hard, cold floor. Her breath came in short gasps now.

She saw the knife again and reached for it. Still warm from her grip. She brought it closer to face, letting the blade blur in her vision.