The faint red liquid already present on the dagger shimmered and danced in the soft moonlight, which spilled into the room from the open window on the fourth floor, casting long, sinewy shadows across the floor.

Suspended mere inches from your quivering neck. With each twist and turn of the assassin's wrist, the lethal tip seemed to graze your jugular, as if teasing the very idea of ending your life.

The assassin's hand was pressed tightly against your stomach, "Easy."