You know the night is not lonely when there is a peculiar commotion in a bedroom; muffled voices, failed screams, and rhythmic creaking of bed. That's what anyone who passes by the room would think so, but what goes on behind a closed door is as profound a mystery as what goes on in the mind of a person sitting next to you.

Such was that night. Room scented with lavender candles, windows romancing with the moon, drapes on them half tied to hang loose, often dancing with the breeze nudging past them. Inside, bathed in the dim red light were two bare bodies writhing against each other, maybe the only source of warmth against the pleasant, cold night of subtropical September. The woman mustn't have been younger than thirty-five or forty but the fierceness in her movements were no less than the twenty years old young man she was fornicating with.

They were restless, swift but passionate. The young man's eyes were filled with several emotions but the fear of consequence ruled them all. In one swift motion he pinned her beneath him, feigning dominance but he knew well if he came out unsuccessful that night, his life wouldn't ever be the same. He acted as if he were bewitched, out of self control which he saw in the woman's eyes that it was bothering her. But that was least of his concerns that night. He thrashed inside her harder that took away any thought lingering in her eyes.

All the while, he picked her up to crash their torsos together and she flung her arms around his neck, burying her face in his neck. The young man knew it was time as he held her with his one hand and his other hand reached out to the table beside the bed. Oh, how he wished the knife wasn't buried in the apple in the fruit bowl! He tried a little but broke the knife free of the apple and held it in his hand. As his speed abated, the woman pivoted her pelvis to compensate his rest. He knew he was near and he knew she was near by the way she moaned and rotated her hips.

As he felt himself release, he brought her face before his, her lips fluttering to meet his. He felt no hint of emotion, as if it wasn't him doing it all, as he brought the knife to her throat and in one swift motion he sliced it open and the blood sprayed across his face for a moment and then it just kept gushing out. Before she fell on her back, lifeless, she seemed to have been reaching for her throat, even just for a moment, clawing at the final cut on her.

As the woman's body thrust the bed, he heard flaps of wings as a raven perched on the window sill. The young man felt as if something has descended his shoulders, he felt light like he was supposed to do it for so long. Moments later, his hands were shaking as the raven began to caw sharply. He flicked his hand in the raven's direction to shut it up and it did.

"Shut up, I know what to do next!" the young man whispered to the raven. The raven craned its neck in his direction and took a flight at once.

The young man looked up, at the ceiling fan and knew exactly what he had to do next. 

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