A whisper, barely a murmur, caught his attention that night.
He squinted, adjusting to the darkness of the alley. A few steps and he heard it again.
No one replied.
The murmur became a lament, loud and mournful.
He followed the sound as he stepped into the shadows.
Suddenly, he saw the shiny blade coming from the right and instinctively turned around.
That grin, he recognized her.
“I’m sorry,” he yelled in despair, trying to save himself. “I’m sorry.”
But it was too late.
“I’m not,” she replied, grinning as she did back then while he raped her.