I sat tied down to the chair staring at the man standing before me. He snapped his rubber gloves on, playing with the blade in hand as if taunting me with the power he held. He could do anything to me. He could, and would, kill me eventually. But at the moment I understood that I had a chance, I had time to talk. I had time to convince him I wasn’t fit to die to his blade.

Five minutes.

“Pl-please don’t kill me. I have a family, kids.. dogs. What will they do without me?” I pleaded, trying not to sound too desperate while also selling the fake family I had conjured up. The man smirked smugly.

“You really should’ve thought of that before venturing into a dark alley alone at 10pm, which is strange for such a family man.” He spoke smoothly and calmly slid the blade over the rough edge of the table. I swallowed.

Four minutes.

“Can’t you spare me? I’ll take care of your house, your bills.. anything. Really, I worked as a housekeeper for years and-“

“Oh darling I want nothing of the sorts.” The man murmured, his grin growing with each anxious word that spewed from my mouth like a toxic cloud of fear. I clenched my fist and closed my eyes, attempting to exhale but the insistent sound of the sliding blade made my bones chill.

Three minutes.

“I don’t understand why you’d kill me, it’s just more blood on your hands. I’m sure I’m not the first.” I almost shouted as the anticipation grew thick. He chuckled, gripping the blades holster tighter and lifting it to my chin. “Of course you wouldn’t understand dear.” His eyes narrowed.

Two minutes of silence, fearful and tense.

It was my last minute to prove myself worthy of life, and I only could think of one more option. I leaned forward, our faces already close, and pressed my lips to his. He gasped, dropping the blade and backing away with wide worried eyes. I heaved a breath, kicking and scrambling in my last attempt.

Snap. Stare. Run.

And I was free.

But that day tends to haunt me when I swear I see his face in the street puddles.

The sweet winter rain.

And above all else,

The feeling of kissing a murderer.