It sounded like violin music, and it was coming from the basement. Steve carefully walked down the steps. The building had just been bombed, this sound should not have come from there, and it was out of context. He was careful to not touch anything as the stones were still hot. The house might have no walls anymore, but the basement seemed to be intact, the wooden stairs were miraculously complete and the basement was full of boxes. A chair was in the middle of it. A woman, with long black hair, was seated on it, playing a violin. Steve tried to talk to her, but she didn't react. The policeman walked around her, hand on his gun, keeping a distance, but she didn't stop playing. First, he couldn't see her face, the light was at her back, but then he turned on his flashlight and froze. This woman playing violin wasn't alive. He could see through her: he saw her bones, and her skull, while her skin, her eyes and her muscles were transparent. She turned her eyes in his direction, still while playing, and he felt like a huge desperation took him down. He felt like he would never be happy or able to smile again. He felt like his life was ending when he met that death gaze.