This is a story I never intended to share when it was first written. This is prior to Dragonsong and my Andurun writings, and prior to my return to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. The Dark Room is a claustrophobic and dreary tale, but one that I think greatly mirrored me during the time as I felt dismal and blind. I didn't even know at the time I was spiritually searching, but the story tells a tale of its own. I divided the Dark Room into 4 installments that are about nine pages apiece. So I bid you to come and explore a lightless place bereft of hope, prior to Andurun and prior to God's renewed presence in my life. You will meet a prototype for the Mirror of the Songstress within its pages, and I think you will also meet me at a younger age, when I was wandering through my own Dark Room. God bless. No light shone in the vast, empty space where Sarah woke. There was a creeping blackness that smothered her like a blanket, heavy and oppressive as she tried to stand, her legs trembling beneath her weight. She reached out for a wall to brace herself, to stop the trembling of her limbs, but found nothing, save for cold, dry air, and she fell again. A gasp of surprise escaped her lips and it carried off into the darkness surrounding her until it was swallowed entirely and was lost to her. She shuddered as she lay huddled on the floor, trying in vain to begin understanding where she was or what was happening. Again she rose, this time pushing off of the cold, stone floor and standing erect in the midst of some unfamiliar place. It wasn’t that she knew she was some place that she had never been, save that a feeling somewhere in the pit of her stomach let her know she wasn’t home. She wasn’t someplace familiar. She wasn’t safe. That thought evoked panic, and she staggered back, looking wildly into the sheets of pure darkness that surrounded her, unable to penetrate what lay beyond it, what was just beyond the feeble reach of her sense of touch. Running a hand over her face, she tried to calm herself.
“Hello?” she called out softly. Like her gasp, the darkness seized her word as soon as it was issued and carried it away, lost on a black echo until the emptiness yawning around her swallowed it up, leaving no trace that she had even spoken. There was no reply, and she stood alone, shivering.
“Hello?” she dared to call louder, dreading the terrible feeling that her calls were dying as they left her, unable to supports themselves in this dreary blackness that dominated the place she was in. Sarah waited, trying in vain to still her speeding heart beat, straining her ears for a sound she might latch onto, to give her some clue as to where she was. She lived in Duluth, in a relatively busy area of the city where sound never failed, no matter the time of day or night. There were voices and sirens and music and more. But eerie silence reigned here, and it brooked no challenges to its authority. She wagered that she might have heard that proverbial pin drop, so still was the place around her.
“Hello!” she dared to yell at last. There was no resounding echo, just the strange effect of her voice being dragged forcibly away from her, fading into dismal obscurity before vanishing entirely. Again there was no answer, and fear began to creep over her. Like the impenetrable blackness all about her, she felt a cold fear rising within her, cooling her blood and chasing away her rationale, working mind. A child’s fears were potent things, and an adult never fully loosed them as they grew up, only learned to suppress them or adapt them to more acceptable behaviors. But every adult still felt the frightening chill of a dark room, a still night or a closet door that was ajar for unknown reason. She felt the unreasoning power of that fear spreading in her like wildfire and she longed to succumb and run away from it. But run to where? She didn’t even have a clue where ‘here’ was, and she grabbed hold of that and used it. There was no reason to fear yet, not until she had some notion where she woke and what she was doing there. How had she gotten here? She recalled her memories of what she had been doing, but failed to understand the events that led her to her waking present. She was a waitress at a small diner. It was Thursday, and they were busy that night. She was almost two hours late getting off of work, and she broke plans with friends to go out that night because she was tired and just wanted to go home to sleep. She recalled leaving the diner and walking toward her apartment building, which was less than ten minutes from where she worked. Had she arrived home? Her memories failed her here, and try as she might, she couldn’t place herself reaching her apartment, unlocking the front door, taking off her coat and making ready for bed, much less reaching her desired goal. Where had she gone after she left work?
Sarah began to tremble. There was nothing in her memory to bring her to this place. She had been kidnapped! That was the only answer! Someone had attacked her on the street while she was walking home that night and taken her somewhere. She didn’t feel injured or drugged. Indeed, her mind was racing with a perfect mingling of reason and fear, and she ran her hands over her body to feel for injuries, only to find that there were none to tell of. She was in perfect physical shape.
Awkwardly, like an infant trying his first steps, Sarah moved forward at a crawl, stumbling with fear and uncertainty, straining to see anything in the mind-numbing blackness that surrounded her. No sight came, and the only sound that could be heard was her breathing and the soft steps of her feet falling over stone. But they didn’t carry far, and seemed to die unnaturally quickly when they left her. Hating that lack of sound, she stopped moving again, tears welling in her eyes. Where was she?
“Please, is someone there?” she called out again. Despair enveloped her and she fought it, swinging her arms to look for something solid in this place with her, but he flailing availed her nothing, and she almost fell over with her wild thrashing. She began to sob, putting a hand to her mouth in an effort to restrain her coming hysterics. Then a stray thought occurred to her. She rifled through her pockets, searching for her lighter. All those years of smoking paid off for her after all, she mused as she stuffed her hands into her pants pockets, groping for the Bic lighter that always accompanied her everywhere she went. Her relief was almost palpable when her hands wrapped around its contours, and she pulled it free, hands trembling. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, almost afraid of what she might see when she flicked the light, Sarah held the lighter up. There was a dim spark but the lighter failed to produce flame, giving nothing more than a vague pretense of light. Sarah cursed, shaking the lighter furiously, then tried it again. The second effort proved no better than the first. Grabbing the lighter in her left hand, she wiped her right on her pants leg, ridding it of the fine layer of sweat that had cropped up. That might have been what was keeping the flame from igniting, she thought. She hoped.
She flicked the lighter again, and then again, and each time it sparked enough to tease the eyes, a mere glimpse of sight for a fleeting second, and then that second was gone and she was swallowed in darkness again. Soon Sarah felt that light was of the greatest importance. There was no logical reason fro her feelings, only that an oppressive feeling began crushing her will, and her last chance to resist was bound to the simple light her lighter could produce.
One last time created a single white flame, but her hands were again soaked with sweat and it flicked straight out of her grip, flinging across the floor and skittering well beyond her reach. Sarah loosed a ragged cry of despair, then cupped a hand over her mouth for fear that she should not have been so loud. She sank to her knees, hands reaching over the cold stone in a vain effort to find the discarded lighter, knowing all the while that it was far beyond her reach. She began to crawl on her hands and knees, sobbing as she went.
“Where am I?” she screamed aloud to the blackness, and her muffled voice only made her more upset. “Is anyone out there? Can someone here hear me? Please!” She collected herself as best she could, straining for the sound of a response. A voice, a footfall, a door opening, anything would have been welcome at that moment. Anything but the sound that was on the edge of hearing, drifting to her from some ways of. Had it been a shuffling noise? It sounded almost like a dragging sound, she thought, perhaps someone walking with a lame leg? Calming her breathing, Sarah leaned low to the floor and listened, intent on hearing the sound again. It came, only this time she was certain that it was a dragging sound of someone walking poorly, and it came from the other side of her.
Was this a trick of the darkness? There was no way that someone could have walked that fast to change positions on her that quickly, unless there was more than one person in this place with her. Or something. No! Sarah wouldn’t let herself indulge childish fears, not sitting in the dark alone! That was exactly what the person who did this to her wanted her to feel, and she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction, even if it drove her mad.
Breathing deeply, she forced herself to her feet and began to walk. She didn’t know what lay ahead, but she had to find a wall sooner or later, and she could follow a wall to a door, and that, in and of itself, would present a comfort to her. She counted her steps as she walked, if for no other reason than to give her terrified mind something to focus on other than the fears of the blackness and the odd noise she might or might not have been hearing. It was gone now, that noise, and Sarah wondered if it had even been there, or just a conjuring of her own fears played out in this dark place.
At length she found a wall. It was as smooth and bare as the floor beneath her, cold to the touch and almost without flaw as she ran her bare hands over its surface. But it was a wall, and it was a welcome feeling. She didn’t realize how disconnected she felt in the emptiness until there was an anchor to cling to, no matter how foreign it was. Placing her palms against the wall at chest level, Sarah strolled along, probing for some telltale difference in the contour, but none were to be found. In fact, she began to wonder when she’d find a corner, and the old fear was creeping behind her, patiently waiting while hope receded back into the recesses of her mind, the false security it was founded upon slowly crumbling with each step she took.
It happened that she found two things at that exact instant. Her left hand slipped into a corner, and she almost fell over some large obstacle in her path. Sarah skipped backward with a startled yelp and dropped to her knees. It had been a body, she was sure of it. Hands shaking, she reached out and felt the still form of a man laying before her. Her was clad in a long sleeve shirt and jeans, and there was some sort of necklace hanging from his neck, sliding off the side of his chest. Her hands ran up to his face and she discerned that he was clean shaven with short hair, and that his head was bleeding from his right temple. Or at least it had been. The blood was sticky and cool on his skin, and it matted a portion of his hair to his head.
Her heart began to race with renewed hope and Sarah gently shook him, calling out softly. He was breathing, and his pulse seemed pretty steady, as if he was simply sleeping there, not too unlike her when she first woke. She shook her head with growing anger. It must have been some kind of drug that had made her sleep until just a short while ago, even if she couldn’t feel the after affects. She took firm hold of the man’s face and slapped him lightly, still calling for him to wake.
“Stop hitting me!” the man suddenly growled, grabbing her by the arms and thrusting her backward. Sarah keeled over and skittered to her feet as she heard the mane do the same, almost falling over himself as he did so.
“Are you alright?” she asked as she stood, groping for him again.
“Who are you? Where am I? What is going on?”
“My name is Sarah,” she answered quickly, then hesitated, feeling the same sharp sense of confusion and fear that now rushed over him. “I don’t know where we are, I’m afraid. I just woke up a few minutes ago like you, and it was pitch black in here then. I had a lighter, but I…lost it. I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Where the…?” she could hear the man collide with the wall once, and then again, then he began to hit the wall with his fists, cursing loudly as he began to grow desperate. Sarah was afraid that he might seriously hurt himself if he didn’t stop, and she yelled at him to get his attention.
“I haven’t finished looking around! Why don’t you help me look around the room?”
“How do you know we’re even in a room? Do you have something to do with this?”
“Do I…?” Sarah gaped, pausing in disbelief. “What do you think? I just woke you up because I found you in this corner, buddy! What do you think this is? It has a floor, walls and a corner. I guess that defines it as a room, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t mock me,” the man growled angrily, and he sounded too close for Sarah’s liking. She stumbled backward, suddenly wondering if it was wise of her to wake the gentleman. Rough hands grabbed her and dragged her toward him, and now it was her turn to get slammed into the wall. She stifled a moan and the breath left her lungs in a rush, the blood surging in her head. She fought back, trying desperately to get free of his grip, but he was much stronger, and he held her fast, his breath hot and ragged against her face. His hands roamed over her, and she went stiff as she endured this intimate violation. He let her go at last, but he didn’t step back, and she knew that if she moved forward she’d run right into him.
“Who are you?” he asked again.
“I told you, my name is Sarah. I woke up in this room, just like you, and I’ve been trying to figure out what is happening here. I work at a little diner, and I was walking home after work, at about nine thirty last night, at least I think it was last night, and then I was here. There’s nothing between then and now that I remember.”
“My name is Harold. I was…meeting with a man. We were discussing business and I left him to go home. I wandered past my house and for a long time, I think. It was late at night. I don’t…I don’t remember anything after that.”
“Who did you meet with?” Sarah asked urgently.
“No one I want to talk about, and let’s leave it at that.”
“Leave it at that?” Sarah scoffed. “What if this guy did this to us? I might know him, and that could give us a clue…!”
“He’s a private investigator!” Harold snapped, spinning away from her and spinning back. Sarah recoiled, half fearing he might strike her, but he didn’t touch her. “I hired a private investigator, alright? He wouldn’t have done this!”
“How do you know that?” Sarah pursued it, perhaps unwisely.
“I hired him to watch my wife,” Harold retorted bitterly, his tone sinking into a simmering depth that Sarah found disturbing. She had pushed him too far. She didn’t need to ask why his wife needed watching, and it hurt her that she had been so direct. Biting her lip, she reached out a hand to place it on him but he slapped it away painfully.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered.
“I’m sure you are,” he shot back before she could even get her sentence out.
“Look, it’s obvious that we will do better if we help each other find a way out of here, don’t you think? I only explored one wall and this corner, and this room seems pretty huge to me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Harold roared, and even the darkness of the room could not confine the hatred lacing his tone. Sarah trembled with new fear suddenly. It wasn’t the fear of half heard things lurking in darkness and childish fantasies. It was the real fear of a man who’s pain and rage were very real, and very near her right now. She shrank back and slid along the wall quietly as she could, waiting for a steel hand to clamp down on her. It wouldn’t be the first time such pain came to visit her, after all. Harold reached for her and she fled, running along the wall and stumbling at each turn until she collapsed to he knees and jarred one leg, making it flare with pain. Harold collided with something behind her and muttered with frustration.
“Look, Sarah, is it? I’m sorry. I’m just really tired of being told what to do. I’ve had a really bad week, and this is just icing on the cake. I didn’t mean to take it out on you, and I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” Sarah offered after a pause. “I shouldn’t have pried. But I still think we should help each other get out of here, wherever here is. Will you help me look for a way out?”
“Where do we even start looking? And how do we know where we have and haven’t been?”
“We can leave a marker at the corner we were just at,” Sarah said. “And then start out together around the room. There has to be some kind of door in here, even if its locked at least we can find it.”
“What’s the point of finding it if we can’t get out?”
“It beats sitting here and doing nothing,” Sarah replied. “Besides, I thought I heard something…” she left off, feeling suddenly juvenile about her fears alone in the room. They retreated when the presence of another living being appeared to confirm how unfounded and foolish they were.
“What did you hear?” Harold asked, “Is someone else in here with us?”
“I don’t know,” Sarah replied lamely. “The room is really big from what I can tell, and its way too dark to see anything at all. I didn’t even see you until I fell over you, Harold. There could be more people in here with us.”
Harold brushed past her and began walking, forcing Sarah to rush forward if she didn’t want to lose him in the eerie blackness canvassing the room. She half felt that it might have been in her best interest to simply fall back and let him go, but he was the only other living, breathing person in this wretched place with her, and she didn’t want to let that small comfort go. Reluctantly, Sarah quickened her step and fell in time beside him, more or less. She felt that he was walking too quickly, and if there was a hazard of some sort present on the floor neither would know until they fell over it, or into it. With that thought, she fell behind Harold just a little, despite the pang of guilt that her cowardice conjured.
“So who do you think took us?” Harold asked at once. Sarah paused.
“I’m not sure.”
“The government, maybe,” Harold answered his own question. “I’ve heard about things like this. The government stages ‘alien abductions’ and things like that to conduct their own experiments.”
“I don’t think they could get away with something like that,” Sarah remarked with a flare of cynicism.
“How do you know what they can or can’t get away with?” he replied heatedly, ceasing his march across the expanse of so much nothing. Sarah, in turn, also stopped.
“How do you know?”
“It just makes sense,” he reasoned at length. “I mean, there’s really no other way that both of us could end up in this weird place together, strangers, and not know what is going on, you know what I mean? Not unless one of us was lying about who and what they were. I know I’m not.”
“I don’t like what you’re hinting at,” Sarah snapped angrily. “I told you who I am and how I found you, Harold. How do I know that you aren’t the one lying? You say so, but I don’t know you! You might have been laying on the floor, waiting for me to ’wake you’ so you could play along.”
“That’s absurd.”
“The whole idea of the government kidnapping us is absurd,” Sarah risked noting. “There would be no point.”
“We’re a pair of nobodies,” Harold argued. “Who cares where a pair of nobodies vanishes to one night? This could be some sick war game that their military is playing, testing new kinds of weaponry or something.”
“That’s our military,” Sarah amended. “We’re Americans, Harold. Why wouldn’t they kidnap someone from a foreign countries, like one of the eastern countries we’re occupying right now instead of us?”
“You just want to disagree for the sake of it, don’t you?” Harold snapped, stepping toward her. Sarah stumbled backward, falling over her own two feet and collapsing onto the floor. She hit so hard that she knocked the wind from her lungs, leaving her gasping on the floor like a fish out of water. Harold knelt beside her, suddenly filled with concern.
“Are you alright? What happened?”
“I…fell…down…” Sarah managed through short, desperate gasps of air.
“Are you afraid of me, Sarah?” Harold asked suddenly, and she felt her blood run cold as he asked it. There was something in his tone that she found wanting, and she knew that there was only one answer she could give right now that would keep her safe for the time being. She reached out a hand and groped for his until he took it roughly and jerked her to her feet.
“No, I’m not. I’m just clumsy.”
“Whatever,” Harold let her hand go and spun around, turning in a full circle as though he could see the width of the room they were standing in, and Sarah fancied she could hear the many thoughts spinning in a tumult in his mind.
“I think we should find the wall again and start following it around, like I suggested,” Sarah offered.
“I think we should cross the room and start on the other side.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Sarah argued. “If we do that we’ll have to double back toward this part of the wall anyhow if we happen to walk right past a door on our way over there, wherever there is!”
“Suit yourself,” Harold replied tersely, moving away with a sudden speed. “I’m going this way,” he said, his voice fading into the consuming blackness. “You can do things your own way if you want. I really couldn’t care less.”
“Harold, wait!” Sarah cried out with terrified force, her hand grasping at the dark as though it were an anchor that might hold him there with her. She panted as a well of fear spiked back up inside her, and she knew that the last place in the world she wanted to be was alone.
“What is it?” he retorted, irritated.
“Don’t leave,” she pleaded softly, stepping toward the place where his voice was emanating from. When he called again he sounded farther still, despite the fact that she was walking forward still.
“Why shouldn’t I? It seems that you have things well in hand with all your great ideas, Sarah. I’ll find my own way out, thank you very much.”
“We’ll be better off together,” she reasoned.
“So you have someone to tell what to do, or that they’re way of thinking isn’t right?” he barked. “No thank you. Tell yourself what to do for awhile.”
“I’m sorry if I came off harsh,” she swallowed her pride and softened her tone. Any company was better than the darkness. “Stay with me and we’ll find a way out, Harold.”
“Are you afraid of the dark, Sarah?” Harold’s voice was suddenly behind her, though still always off by the sound. Sarah leapt into the air and spun in that direction, biting back an angry curse. She bit her lip so hard that she might have bled before she spoke, to make sure that she didn’t say anything acid toward him.
“I’m afraid of not finding a way out of here. I think two heads are better than one.”
“Oh? I have a working mind now? That’s great.”
“Listen, I’m sorry about what happened with your wife, Harold. If it makes you feel any better, my last boyfriend was a real jerk, and I had a hard time getting rid of him. I can feel for you.”
“I doubt that.”
“That I can’t understand your pain?” Sarah shot back, feeling hot anger rising in her. Did she want this arrogant, proud monster walking around with her? She was suddenly doubtful.
“I doubt that you had a hard time getting rid of him,” Harold answered with a bitter laugh. “You never answered me, Sarah. Are you afraid of the dark?”
“Yes, Harold,” I’m afraid of the dark. Does that make you feel better? Do you suddenly feel superior to me now?”
“I just wanted to see a chink in your armor,” Harold answered, gloating.
“I just told you that my last relationship was an abusive one! You don’t consider that a chink in my armor? What more do you want to hear?”
“You never said it was abusive,” Harold told her. “You said you had a hard time getting rid of him. That could have meant anything. You might have had his kid or something, and he wanted visitation rights.”
“I’m a Catholic girl, thank you,” Sarah retorted. “I was raised to have higher standards. So if you don’t mind, why don’t you get your head out of the gutter and let’s figure out how to get out of here, alright? We’re not any closer to finding a door.”
“We’re closer than you think,” Harold’s voice was suddenly very close, and Sarah pin wheeled backward to avoid him touching her. Had he just tried to grab her? She began to shiver violently. What sort of man was she trapped in this place with? “Did I scare you?”
“Did you just try to grab me?” Sarah asked, trying very hard to sound calm, though she shook from head to toe.
“I was just seeing where you were,” Harold answered indifferently, and his tone felt sincere. Sarah wished right then that she could see his face. She didn’t doubt that he was smiling at her right then, smiling a secret smile with wicked intent. She shook her head angrily and banished the thoughts from her mind. It wasn’t the time for jumping to conclusions. He was the only help she had at the moment, and she meant to try and keep him on her side as long as she could.
“Do you still think that the government has nothing to do with this?” he asked bluntly. He was testing her.
She sighed silently. “Maybe they are, Harold. I just don’t want to think that our own government would do something like this to us, put us alone in this…room, and leave us here for seemingly no reason.”
“Maybe there is a reason.”
“We’ll debate the reason while we hunt for a door. Agreed?” she asked hopefully.
There was a moment of silence from Harold, then a clap of his hands that sounded like thunder in the dark. “Agreed.”
Breath caught in her throat, Sarah held out her hand, probing for Harold’s. He found it very quickly, snatching it with a painful strength, and Sarah almost panicked, fearing that he might violently jerk her toward him. Had she misunderstood what he was saying a moment ago. Something in the pit of her stomach told her otherwise. She would have to be very careful around him. Her first step felt weighted with lead as she began to walk. Then, together, they halted. Both came to the same realization without having to say a word.
“Where are we supposed to be going?” Harold asked of no one in particular.
“Following the walls, just like a I said,” Sarah offered, tugging at him in what she hoped was the right direction. In the blackness she might have been pulling him clear across the expanse of the room.
“Why isn’t there an echo in this place?” Harold demanded of the gloom that surrounded them. It mocked him by devouring his words with the same fervor that any loud sound received in this wretched place.
“You noticed that too?” Sarah let out a profound sigh of relief. “When I first woke up I thought I was going totally crazy! It sounds almost like the room is…eating our sound as we make it. Like there’s this giant curtain in front of us all the time, getting in the way of sound that we make.”
“That’s crazy talk,” Harold muttered, pacing nervously around her. “I’d expect a woman to have crazy talk to explain this, when there are a hundred other things that might be happening that could more easily explain it!”
“I know, I know! The government kidnapped us and they probably sold us as slaves to aliens or something like that, right?”
“I thought we were passed all of this,” Harold growled suddenly, and he was very near her. She slipped her hand away from his, but she could feel the heat of his breath falling over her cheek as he spoke. “But there you go again, pissing me off! Where do you feel you get the right to treat me like this, woman? Do you know what I could do to you in here? Alone? Should I show you what I could do to you in here?”
“Harold, I’m sorry,” Sarah stammered, but it was too little, too late. He grabbed her blouse and it tore under his grip as she flung herself backward, trying to avoid him. She swung wildly and felt her hand collide forcibly with his face, knocking him a step or two back. Her hand stung, and she felt exposed with her tattered blouse hanging from a bare shoulder.
“You witch!” Harold roared, so near that his hoarse tone made her half-deaf. “I’ll kill you! Or maybe I’ll keep you around for awhile, just to amuse myself.”
His last words chilled her to the core, and Sarah ran, quietly as she could, away from him. Harold muttered another curse and gave chase. She could hear his footfalls right behind her, but just above the din of her own heartbeat it was beating so loudly. His fingers raked her back once, then again. Sarah cried out and tripped to avoid his grab, falling to her face and dashing her head against the cold stone underfoot. Harold let out a startled cry and flew over her, catching her ribs with a foot and joining her on the ground. He snarled like an animal and came for her, raking her legs with his hands.
Sarah screamed shrilly and scrambled backward until he pushed hard and forced hr to her back so violently that she gasped for breath. With one last, desperate effort, she kicked wildly into the dark and felt her foot connect with Harold’s head, and the sound was terrible in the darkness. He groaned and slunk to the floor,. Silence filled the area, and Sarah lay flat on her back, panting with the effort of her struggles, her mind reeling with the terrible implication of what Harold wanted from her. Her head pounded from the growing swelling on her temple and from bruising on one thigh where Harold grabbed her quite roughly. Catching her breath, she pushed herself to her feet, almost swooning as she stood aloft. She knelt and probed the dark, searching for Harold. Had she killed him? She felt that rather unlikely. Sarah was a petite young woman, and Harold, judging from the size of him, was not a small man by any means. Her kick had been lucky and well placed, and the knocked him out for the time being. Nothing more. Or was he unconscious? Harold seemed adept at playing games, and he may simply be laying there on the floor, waiting to see if she would be stupid enough to try finding him, making his job of catching her even easier. Or he might even be on the move, stealthy like a hunting cat, stalking around her and waiting for a proper moment to strike.
She decided at length that she had to know. Sucking in her breath, Sarah knelt to the floor and tried to calm herself. Trembling fingers traced the cold contours of the floor, searching for Harold’s body, shaking so badly that she had to clench and unclench her hands to make them stop for brief periods. She recoiled when her left hand slipped into a tiny pool of warm liquid that felt sticky to the touch. She knew that it was blood. Harold’s blood.
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