Her more than disturbing appearance - added to the passive aggressive tone of her voice - had left me, as well as the aggressor, momentarily dazed.
And this moment of hesitation did not go unnoticed by her.
For suddenly, she had darted in my direction. And putting her hands on each side of my head - on each of my shoulders - she had jumped forward, doing a cartwheel.
Her wig had fallen off; and her hair, as she balanced upside down above me, had brushed mine.
The unexpected contact of the two delicate hands on my shoulders, combined with this sudden proximity, had sent a shiver through my whole body.
Then, in the same graceful movement, she had then swung her legs upwards and then forwards, taking advantage of the momentum she had gathered to give a double jump kick right into the chest of the man facing us.
The latter had then been projected backwards, falling heavily on his back. And almost immediately, the detective had landed on the ground, and had jumped on him to immobilize him. She had then kicked his wrist, dislodging the knife from his hand; before grabbing his arm and twisting it backwards to force the man onto his stomach.
"Nijima-kun! The knife!" she shouted at me.
It was even an order. And an order I was not going to contradict, considering the situation we were in.
My body filled with new energy, I leapt to my feet and rushed to retrieve the knife that had been thrown in my direction.
Thanks to the light of my cell phone still on the ground, I found the weapon; and saw the outlines of the bodies of the detective and the criminal.
The knife was still there, stuck right in her chest. And it didn't seem to bother her in the least. As if it was perfectly normal.
This made me think back to the moment I had met her.
I hadn't dreamed or imagined what I had seen that night. And if it was real... Then...
I must have continued to stare at her with my only available eye for a moment, because she felt the need to call my attention back.
"Nijima-kun!" she exclaimed, to make me react.
It succeeded, because I was now looking her in the eyes, instead of being stuck watching the weapon protruding grotesquely from her body.
"The door!" She said.
Ah yes. The door.
But I was having a really hard time finding my way in the surrounding darkness.
So I decided to go and get my phone, and passing in front of the window, I saw red and blue flashes of light coming from the yard. The police had arrived in the meantime, probably thanks to a call from one of the neighbors.
But if I wanted to open the door for the police, I needed the key currently in the possession of the man neutralized by the young woman.
With my phone finally in hand, I was heading towards her, when she gave me a curious look.
"What are you doing?" She asked me, while continuing to maintain the man tackled on the ground by exerting an increased pressure on his arm.
"I need the key to open the door..." I said.
"No. Make sure the door stays closed," she ordered me. "Don't let anyone in for now."
This time her tone was sharp; urgent even; which prompted me to answer her very quickly, while I could now hear someone outside banging their fist against the front door.
"He'd already locked the door," I explained, pointing to the man lying on the floor.
She nodded, and then asked me to go get something to tie the suspect up. But it was so dark that the small amount of light coming from my phone was insufficient to search for anything in detail. And it was becoming difficult to hold both the knife and the device, my right hand still hurting.
So I put the knife down on the counter in the kitchen, and headed down the small hallway; remembering that there were light switches at the beginning.
I turned on the light, finding myself momentarily blinded, before finally seeing the state in which the apartment was.
There was blood splattered all over the tatami mats, and even big red marks in some places. Where I had fallen to the ground.
And immediately, I was nauseated. It was my blood on the floor. I was injured, that's right.
Lowering my head down, I gagged.
This awful color was everywhere, on my hands and jacket sleeves; and caused me to drop my phone to the ground.
My throat tightened, and I could hardly breathe.
I couldn't even hear what the detective was trying to tell me, all my attention focused on the blood - my blood - that covered me. It was everywhere.
And no matter how much I rubbed with my hands, it wouldn't go away. The ugly color was still on my clothes and on my skin, and my bloody hand kept bleeding.
The crimson red stayed on me, and I couldn't get rid of it. And as the seconds passed, the room spun around me.
I didn't even notice that the detective had taken off her jacket and tied it around the wrists of the man on the floor, and then walked towards me.
I knew she was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't hear her, and I wasn't looking at her. My eye was focussed on my arms, and more particularly on my right hand, which bore a long red gash.
The color that was making me sick was everywhere, and I was running out of air, breathing faster and faster, with increasingly shorter breaths. I felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest, exploding my rib cage in the process.
Then, suddenly, everything went black. I couldn't see anything. But my eyes were not closed. Nor was it the ceiling light that had been turned off. For in all this confusion I felt something cold covering my eye and part of my face.
"It's all right, Nijima-kun," I finally heard the detective say, in a tone meant to be reassuring.
She had said this with such calmness and consideration that I almost felt bad for still being completely agitated as I was.
"Everything is fine, so just focus on my voice, alright?" She continued. "Listen to my voice, and listen to my breathing, okay?"
I finally realized that she had put her hand on my face, to prevent me from seeing what I was so repelled by.
"You're fine, and you're alive," she said calmly, without raising her voice. So show me you're okay by breathing along with me..."
She then began to breathe as fast as I did, matching my erratic rhythm of exhales and inhales; then gradually reduced the speed of her breaths.
Strangely, my own breath began to accompany her rhythm, and I even felt my shoulders relax.
I was almost starting to feel better, my thoughts suddenly empty, no longer remembering the horrible vision I had had before my eyes. But my heart was still pounding inside my chest, and I felt my legs give out from under me.
Sliding with my back to the wall, I fell heavily to the hallway floor. I buried my head in my arms, forcing the detective to remove her cold hand from my face.
As long as I didn't see that color, everything would be fine. As long as I couldn't see it. I just didn't know how I was going to do that yet, knowing that I was covered in it...