The storm raged, unforgiving and relentless, it tore through the night destroying everything in its twisted path.
Not unlike the cloaked man scurrying down the dimly lit alley, blood dripping from the serrated knife in his hand.
The woman lay still, her clothes torn asunder, rags blowing in the wind as though she were trying to fly, hair dancing in the gale.
Intestines spilled from a hole in her abdomen, glistening in the fading lantern light.
Something warm spread through me and I realised I'd taken my eyes from him, and in doing so, he'd taken my life from me.
(100)
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