Prologue
Edinburgh, Scotland
Time has a funny way of presenting itself in life. One spends most of their days thinking they don't have enough of it, only to be stopped short by the moments in which it seems to stand still. A brief moment suspended along the continuity of one's existence, usually brought about by great happiness or the perception of extreme danger and the feeling which accompanies it. This was the latter. Fear.
She stood there unable to move, paralyzed as if the absoluteness of what she just witnessed ceased to exist. The rational part of her mind told her to run. But instead, she remained frozen, taking in the small, minute details around her—the barstools knocked over, the light shining off the splinters of broken glass, the pattern of blood splattered along the wall, the steel gray eyes of the killer as his pupils constricted to mere pinpoints.
Run. She wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't her reality. This experience was for someone else. This was their pause in existence, not hers. A crash at the door started the ticking of the clock. Someone was shouting in Russian, "Nyet. Nyet."
Run.She turned, sprinting through a small kitchen in the back of the building as fast as her legs would carry her and out a back door into an alley. The unusually warm air, fetid from the reek of rotting trash assaulted her, thick and suffocating.
Run. She kicked her high heels off and made her way down the narrow street. This part of the city was dodgy; people were more interested in keeping to themselves than in helping someone. She turned down a dark street to her left and bumped into a skimpily clad woman. "Watch it, bitch," the lady said before disappearing into an alcove. Faster, she must move faster. She could hear him behind her. His footsteps echoed off the cobblestones. Her lungs burned from the exertion and a stitch had formed in her side, but she couldn't stop. He was getting closer. A barricade of rubbish bins and old boxes blocked her way up ahead. She jumped over a short crate and fell, landing with a thud. Pain radiated up her arm. Please not like this, she thought, it can't end likethis. The footsteps were getting closer. She scrambled to her feet and held her injured wrist protectively, looking around. There was nowhere to go. It was a dead end. She turned slowly, facing her assailant. "Please don't kill me," she begged.
He stepped closer. "You weren't supposed to be there." She kept her eyes on him until the darkness took her and the irreversible succession of time ended.