Something stirs me awake and my eyes snap open—a premonition clawing its way through the darkness of my mind.
There it is again, clearer this time, the details sharp as glass shards. The echo of footsteps behind me in the dark, empty kitchen.
I see a glint of something shiny, the blade of the knife, and suddenly I smell the sickly sweet scent of blood pooling under me. My own blood.
I see a piece of fabric, a shadow moving with purposeful silence. The face remains hidden, but the intention is stark and clear.
Murder.
My heart races, threatening to break free from my chest. This isn't just another nightmare, it is a memory. The memory of my murder and this time, I see it a bit more clearly.
The killer is wearing something soft, a sweatshirt maybe? I couldn't make out the color.
I for
