I glance back at my criminal-like follower and make a dash for the alley, and though he follows me, once I am far enough behind the darkness, the thing stops before the light and darkness merge into one absent state. He squints into the dark, but even I know he cannot see anything, for Cat-Eyes are blind in the dark. The alley smells faintly of mildew, but it is better than running for my life.
I turn to face what I assume is a bricked wall of a building facing the opposite way; one that makes the alley a dead end. I walk forward, or what I assume is forward, and cannot even see myself-probably no better than a Cat-Eye can. The farther straight I walk, the more I become concerned that the darkness will engulf me completely, to where I am lost inside a sightless void. But I walk, and I walk, and I walk in what I assume is a straight line in utter darkness caused by the sun's light casting onyx shadows off of roofs. That is the one thing I do not comprehend; how the sun, so excruciatingly radiant and vivid in hue, can make such a place so dim and lifeless to where it has a faint smell of mold that makes one weak in the knees whenever they inhale. The oxygen in my head is not thriving like I expect, or at least hope for, it to. I try to lean to my side, to press my hand against the wall, but I guess my theory on walking straight ahead has not worked so well, for the blackness I am in has let me loose and let me be taken hostage by an endless blackness that is far more powerful and cold.
I wake up to white light suffocating me, my eyes crying out with watery beads. Something wet is on my forehead, and I know for a fact it is not layers of sweat anymore, for as I attempt to sit up, a moist cloth falls in my lap from my forehead. "A damp rag?" I think quietly. I look around the well-lit room, pondering if I have passed away and gone to heaven, but the figure I see sitting in the chair opposite of-oh what is this? A couch?-startles me, my adrenaline rushing into my bloodstream again.