She is now awake, slowly and gently comming into conciousness. As she wakes, she starts to shutter, which grows into a scream. I fear her scream. Her scream is a bloody cry of anguish and pain. Her eyes are wide. She never did very well with blood. As I soon grow somewhat accustomed to the terror, and her scream slowly starts to die, I realize that my hand is hanging from barely a thread. In all of my pain I turn to get up, so she won’t see my crippled limb. As I turn, I look into the face of an evil so vicious, I shiver in fear. This man, oh he is an evil man, has knife with him. It is covered in my blood. This is no ordinary blade, but a blade of shimmering glass. I have never seen designs so intricately made as I did on that knife. I would have surely admired it more than I had, if this evil man wasn’t staring at me with that deceiving grin on his face, and my hand wasn’t burning like the fires of hell. I grow dizzy and fall to the floor. I hear my wife scream again. I am floating, and I have died.