I　knew　this　was　not　to　be　my　fate。　He　brought　the　inkpot　down　onto　my

head　once　again。　I　was　in　such　a　state　of　profound　torment　that　I　could　only

vaguely　discern　the　impact。　He；　the　inkpot　and　the　room　illuminated　faintly　by

the　candle　had　already　begun　to　fade。

Yet；　I　was　still　alive。　My　desire　to　cling　to　this　world；　to　run　away　and　escape

him；　the　flailing　of　my　hands　and　arms　in　an　attempt　to　protect　my　face　and

bloody head； the way； I believe； I bit his wrist at one time； and the inkpot

striking　my　face　made　me　aware　of　this。

We　struggled　for　a　while；　if　you　can　call　it　that。　He　was　very　strong　and　very

agitated。 He laid me out flat on my back。 Pressing his knees onto my

shoulders；　he　practically　nailed　me　to　the　ground　while　he　raved　on　in　a　very

disrespectful tone； accosting me； a dying old man。 Perhaps because I could

neither　understand　nor　listen　to　him；　perhaps　because　I　took　no　pleasure　in

looking　into　his　bloodshot　eyes；　he　struck　my　head　once　more。　His　face　and　his

entire　body　had　bee　bright　red　from　the　ink　splattering　out　of　the　inkpot；

and　I　suppose；　from　the　blood　splattering　out　of　me。

Saddened　that　the　last　thing　I’d　ever　see　in　this　world　was　this　man　who

would　be　my　enemy；　I　closed　my　eyes。　Thereupon；　I　saw　a　soft；　gentle　light。　The

light　was　as　sweet　and　enticing　as　the　sleep　I　thought　w