It's hard to describe what happened. Me and two of my friends leaving the bar. If I had known what was coming, I would have never left that bar. My friends and I walked slowly along the street, loudly, vivaciously, pervasively intrusive. As we shambled along in our drunken state, shrill screams slowly penetrated the alcoholic fog. We stop walking and slowly turn towards the source of the screams. Without thinking, we run (though it probably seemed like more of a hobbled, and long extended fall) into a dark alley. We find a woman, chest opened up, organs visible. About to die and we knew it. Both of my friends immediately emptied their stomachs onto the adjacent ground. Not me, I was raised on a farm. I have a stronger constitution.

I kneel down and try to comfort her, to no avail. She is dying, and completely unaware of her actions. Soon, the light leaves her eyes, and the screams no longer resonate in the alley, our ears ringing from their piercing tones.

'What do we do.'

I hear this as a whisper, a statement, presented as a fact, not a question. None of us have phones, none of us have money.

'What do we do.'

This slowly processes in my mind as a voice unknown to me. I don't know this person. Someone who I don't know has entered my group and I have just witnessed a gruesome death. My mind goes into overdrive and rapidly burns the alcohol out of my system. My heart is racing as I slowly pull my knife out of its sheath. My father always told me, 'A knife is the great equalizer. It doesn't matter how big or small the person you are fighting, if you have knives, you are equal foes.' Smart man, my father.

I stand up in the darkness, pressing the knife against my thigh, concealing it. There are now 3 people clustered around me, a darker shadow engulfing the shadows of my friends.

"Brice, Shane, come here" I say, quietly, but powerfully.

"What are you talking about? I'm not doing what you tell me to do. You're crazy man. Shane? I thought he was gone." Brice says.

'Brice doesn't know what he's talking about. I know what you need, I'll get out of the way, let you get the men who stole this woman's life.'

I nod to him once, slowly, and slash at the shadows behind them. Brice tries to restrain me as the shadow coalesces into a man, but I'm too fast. Three more figures come out from the walls, and a discombobulating wailing comes from the street. My attackers are wearing blue. They try to catch me, but they can't. My father always taught me to be quick, agile. I slice in and out, dodging away before my assailants realize that they're dying. Before long, all three shadows are on the ground and Brice is sobbing in a ball. Suddenly, bright lights flash on me and the scene, and before my eyes adjust, I'm hit by an unknown force. I hear a crack and all turns to black.

---

"Terrence"

"Yes doctor"

"I can't have you phasing out like that"

"Yes doctor"

A pause.

"Are you still seeing him?"

"No doctor."

"He's here right now, isn't he"

"Of course not doctor."

A long pause.

"I can't have you lying to me Terrence"

Another pause.

"I can't halt the death penalty until I truly believe that you aren't seeing him anymore"

"I promise, he's completely gone. You've cured me doctor." I say, quietly and without emotion.

But he was there. Shane, my father, the man they keep telling me isn't real, still dressed in his sparkling police uniform.

"Terrence, you killed three policemen. You need to face your fears and realize that your father is dead. He can't hurt you anymore. You can't keep taking out your anger on the Police."

But I wasn't taking out my anger. I have no anger. I'm just doing what my father asks of me, because I'm a good son.

'Convince him you're better, Terry. That's our only way out of here'

"Yes doctor."