Pink carnation embroidery

I toss and turn in the darkness, with nothing but the moon shining through my open window as a source of illumination. The damp air chokes me until I have to get up. I reach for the glass of water on the side table.

No. Not a wise choice. He could be here. He could have poisoned the water. I snatch my hand back.

I burst into a frenzy of coughs. Chesty coughs, wheezing coughs, every kind. I grab the glass and gulp down the cool liquid. The sweat is trickling down my face, then my neck and then my back.

I shiver. Then a shadow sways in the corner of my eye.

It’s him.

I just know it. I get back in between the sheets. I pretend to be asleep but am aware of everything.

I lie there aware of the creaking of the floorboards and the rustling of the branches of the trees outside the open window.

I freeze. I look around again. I can vaguely see something.

No, someone.

He’s in the corner of the room, by the old wooden chest. There’s a strong gust of wind. The rest is quick yet vivid in my memory.

It is pink carnation embroidery on rough, dark brown, leather. It swept the floorboards as he strode towards me.

Then a struggle.

I saw stars next before hitting the cold hardwood floor.

Then I felt his heavy hand on my cheek. I tried to get up but weary and weak I gave in.

He got me. And all I could do was…

nothing.