One life to live

He awoke with a start. His clothes were sweaty. He got up to wash his face.

It had been fourteen years, but the nightmares had not stopped. He could still see that face clearly ... the sneer, those eyes without any trace of emotion, those strong hands. And that knife. Drip. Drip. Drip. Even today, he heard every drop of blood fall to the floor, he heard her screams ... trying to fight off her killer ... shouting to him for help, but he remained hidden. He knew he could have stopped her from dying if he wanted ... or at least give her a fighting chance. But that would have meant him having to suffer the same fate as her. And he chose to live.

But was this a life ? Fourteen years of the same vision. He wanted to be free, but that would no longer be possible. By not saving her, he had doomed himself to suffer a fate worse than hers.

He washed his face and looked up into the mirror ... and recoiled in shock. He saw the killer's face stare back at him, just as the prison alarm sounded.