***
An unseen presence pressed against her, an icy exhalation of dread crawling down her spine. Overhead, a flickering neon sign sputtered, its "EXIT" glowing with a sickly urgency, a reminder of an escape long past. Time fractured — a rush of movement, an inaudible gasp — and the blade, cold and familiar, flashed briefly in the pallid moonlight, carving the space between breaths.
The street, once mundane, dissolved into something unrecognizable — a canvas of surreal hues bleeding beyond the realm of logic, the air thick with a shift in meaning. Her body, now a thing of abstract terror, cast shadows that seemed to linger too long, twisted by forces that defied any understanding. The killer, a presence more than a form, vanished as easily as breath into the suffocating night, absorbed by the absence from which he came.
The alley, in its strange and quiet finality, returned to its familiar apathy. The sign buzzed its indifferent song, a mechanical drone that carried no weight, no promise. And in the hollow, a life slipped away, its extinguishing so small, so utterly inconsequential. A secret was held — not in a body, but within the crushing blackness that devours even the idea of a soul. The void between stars, empty and infinite, seemed to close in on itself, carrying the weight of a truth unspoken, unasked, and forever beyond reach.
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