New York... Morning 3 O'clock...
The world was silent as if a shadow was speaking in a dream. The streets were as dark as death's eye with the sun still below the horizon.
In the silent city, a man was wailing in pain when he was thrown on the floor. Struggling with his life, his soul seemed to have departed from him when he began crawling on the ground as if his bones were loosely connected to his body. He was a definition of grotesque with swollen eyes and drooling blood from his slack jaws, but still not a skeleton. At least for now.
The once heartthrob of the country is now lying on a dirty floor, he doesn't know if it was his blood or someone else, but it was a foul stench and nauseating to inhale.
