She woke up. She blinked her eyes. Pitch darkness. She yawned and breathed in through her nose. She blinked her eyes again. She felt a tear running down her face, dissolving the salt from previous tears. But no saliva was running down her throat anymore: her mouth was dry, hard. Her cheeks were swollen, from some kind of internal pressure, from the foreign object she had in her mouth. Her head was about to burst. What was in her mouth? What? When she woke up, the first thing she thought was that she wanted to return to the dark, warm depths that had enveloped her before. The effect of the injection had not yet worn off, but she knew it: she knew that pain was waiting for her, she felt it approaching slowly, with every heartbeat, with the spasmodic flow of blood in her brain. Where was that man? Was he standing behind her? She held her breath and listened. She couldn’t hear anything, but she felt a presence. Like the presence of a leopard. Someone had once told her that leopards can slip silently through the dark and end up right behind their victim. That they can regulate their breathing to match the rhythm of their victim’s breath. She felt the warmth of his body, she was sure. So what was he waiting for? She exhaled once more. And she thought she felt a breath on the back of her neck. She turned abruptly and punched blindly, into the void. And then she curled up, trying to make herself small, to hide. In vain.
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