“You’re obsessed with me.”

“You’re obsessed with me,” you say.

“Wow, that couldn’t be any more wrong,” she replies.

She leans over to pick up the knife again. Her thighs glide across your cock, and you leave a trail of precum on her soft skin. She raises the knife over her head. She trembles a bit. “I’m sorry.”

You watch the blade plunge down towards your upper chest. You hear a thud. She gets up without the knife. Am I breathing? You feel a fear that you’ve never felt before. The ceiling. Footsteps. Blackness.