The first time she came to me was in sleep. I twisted and fought fevered dreams. Fragments of memory and violence surged and withered. My tormented hands clasped the sheets with a dying man’s grip. She stood in a hallway backed by darkness. Her hands by her side, a white slip hung over her slender frame. Her alabaster skin stretched tight over muscle and sinew. Her shoulders bare and collar bones unmistakable. Her eyes again held me, unblinking. Without words She begged me to stay. I yearned to know her but drowned in fear. Wanted to run, both towards her and away. Sweep her into my arms and sweep her from my memory. Still my eyes were drawn by her stare. Her lips wavered and split. Speak! My pounding heart writhed in my chest. My limbs trembled. Slowly she drew breath.
I awoke in an empty house.