I opened my eyes and stared at the water-marked ceiling.

Light from the street lamp filtered past the partially pulled curtain, casting speckles in the darkness.

Numbness flowed through my veins, in my blood, feeding into my brain the need for apathy.

I must be silent.

The first scream shook my core. My stomach flipped over, and I clutched the worn blanket beneath me. Every cry was a bullet to my gut. I blinked away tears, and remained mute. Distantly, I could hear his beating.

A sudden wave of panic clouded my vision. I had promised not to react, not to say a word. But what if he changed his mind, and killed me too?

I remembered her face, that night, so beautiful and exuberant as she danced and sang with me. How shocked we'd been when we managed to get tickets to their one and only show in Berlin. Too bad we got them from a mad-man. Too bad he'd taken a liking to her.

Too bad I was too cowardly to comply with his demands, scared of what he'd found of my past.

The tears worsened as her screams worsened. I could barely see the water-spots and falling light now. Just a big expanse of recognizable plaster.

I remembered her lips pressed against mine, in the heated excitement of the music and people who loved the same thing we loved. Everyone was happy.

Gradually, her screams turned into a distant warbling. Man, was she hard to kill. Finally, a final thump and the rough, sickening sound of dragging. The bed springs jostling metallically. Bed springs groaning frantically as the bed goes up and down. I listened as he raped her dead body.

I couldn't take it.

I tried to, but I couldn't.

Carefully, I raised myself from the bed. I felt as if I had left my body a long time ago; nothing now would have any consequences. I crouched to the cold wooden floor and carefully extracted a box of matches from within my weed stash.

I would make the fucking Necrophiliac burn.

Moving as fast as possible, I gathered paper, pencils and plastic from my desk, drawers and bookshelf; all the trash from my wastepaper basket. And somewhere within my frantic silence, hearing what a person should never have to hear, it occurred to me to pack some belongings in a rucksack.

I didn't know how to start a massive fire. I'd never done something like that before. But I started with a blanket, and before long, I stood amongst the blistering flames.

I didn't care how I was going to get out. I just wanted the asshole dead. The flames had made their way to door; there was no way to escape. And I could still hear the fucker next door. He didn't know that soon, he'd be a goner. Shoving open my window, I sucked in fresh air. Smoke billowed past me into the night. Slinging my rucksack over my shoulders, I readied myself for the jump.

Chances are the jump would kill me, but then, I would die anyway. The adrenaline which had flown through me minutes before was deteriorating. If I didn't jump soon, I wouldn't be able to. I gripped the window sill with all my might, and shoved myself headfirst into the tumbling darkness of the night.