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There wasn't any pain. Not really. It happened so fast. I couldn't tell you if the hand pushing my forehead back was first or the heat in my throat. It was possible it was simultaneous. My first thought was that a large branch had broken off the tree and hit my head, pulling my neck back over the bench. My second thought had been that I didn't not want to go to our ER and explain to everyone how stupid I had been to sit outside, by myself, in the dark. Those two thoughts came and disappeared in a half a second before the screaming in my head took over.

Someone is holding me.

I opened my eyes to realize the hand trying to snap my neck was covering my eyes as it pushed me over the bench in an angle that could not be possible. The other hand was pressing into my stomach, like it was trying to make its way through my abdomen and hit the wood behind me. Too strong. So strong. The thoughts should have been coming out of my throat but my voice was gone. My mouth was opening and closing but no sound came out. He is stabbing my throat. How? Both hands are on me. There's more than one. One to hold me and one to stab me. No, not stabbing... ripping, tearing. Something is tearing at my spine.

Then, I was in the air. It was so violent I thought the bench must have snapped below me but I would be going down if that happened. I was being lifted and thrown to the ground. I heard my iPhone crash to the sidewalk and felt soft dirt below my back.

My eyes were no longer covered but it was too dark to see. All I could do was feel and smell. I smelled wet earth, citrus, dry leaves and spaghetti sauce, mixed with something like metal. That's blood, Kate, your blood. I felt more pulling and the sound of torn fabric filled the night. The man was ripping my scrub top open.

It didn't really matter at this point. I was dying.

The girls commanded my thoughts. I didn't care what he did, why he did it or where I was. All I focused on was Olivia and Ellie. They would hear the next day that I was dead. They would be spared the details but someday, when they were older, curiosity would overtake them and they'd look for answers.

Attacked. Topless. Ripped apart.

My thoughts crashed down around the pain ripping through my body, hot and sharp. I couldn't breathe. I can't breathe. Please let it end.

I wouldn't see them walk down an aisle or touch their swollen bellies and try to feel my grandchild kick. Their Dad would have to show them pictures and tell them stories of their Mom- the nurse who was murdered too young. Even with the wet blood drying on my face, I knew the feeling of a tear rolling down my cheek.

I love you girls so much. I hope I told you enough times. I love you so much.

The ripping and tearing stopped as quickly as it started. There was movement just above me. His head just to the right of mine and looking up. He was so still. So close. How could I not see someone so close? I'm losing my sight. Too much blood. I have lost too much. No one can survive this.

Nothing. The air above me was empty. He is gone. How? I hadn't seen him stand or leave. No sound of running away. He was just....gone. It's your sight, Kate. Next is your thinking. Soon you will fall asleep and the tree will be the only thing to watch you take your last breath, but the pain will be gone.

I thought of the bag of blood I had just hung and how much of my blood would be useless and wasted on the cold ground. I couldn't make anything move. I could only lay there and listen to the orchestra finish its concert on my phone. Thankfully, I had music to die with.

Oh, God, no, he's back.

He was shoving something into my mouth. It's too big. My mouth was screaming in pain. I clamped my eyes shut. I didn't want to see him. Please, no. No more.

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