I heard it. It went on for a while, and I knew what I was supposed to do but for some strange reason I couldn’t block it. Maybe it was the fact that I had being doing this for so long that I couldn’t keep myself from doing it. But despise all of this it somehow didn’t matter to me, for I was lost in darkness, in sorrow, in myself.
 Knock.
 It wasn’t as persistent as the rest had been but it managed to bring me back. For the first time in the past eight months it wasn’t the illusion of her that brought me back, for I could say it was this knock that had brought me back.
 Feeling my own breath, my pulse, my senses come alive, it was all different. This acknowledgment of myself felt all too weird. The way the silk felt under my fingers, how the room felt so quiet, how my eyes no matter how much they blinked could only see darkness.
 Knock.
 I fought my own need to just lay there in this warm but somehow cold bed. I arose from my bed to be greeted by the old, dusty room. There were no longer traces of her, for the thought of her living here now seemed impossible. Looking around I found the tiniest trace of light. It seemed to have fought its way into the room through the firmly shut curtains. The smallest of light could so easily emphasize the dust that felt from the room and how it swirled in the air before falling to the ground. A beautiful thing that was caused by my absence.
 Knock. Knock.
 Finally deciding to get up I saw her.
 “Stop,” I whispered.
 My voice didn’t sound like mine. My voice had changed, almost as if it no longer wished to be heard. Hearing it made me feel less of a man because it was meant to be harsh but I couldn’t project that. I deeply knew it would hurt like h--- for her to stop. I deeply didn’t want her to leave me alone...again.I knew so well that this wasn’t her that it was all part of my head, but I couldn’t let her leave.
 KNOCK.
 This time it snapped me back to reality. She no longer stood there. She was gone and I felt...free. I started running. Running downstairs with all I had left.
 Reaching the end of the stairs with the door just a couple of feet away, I felt that same strange feeling I had been feeling this entire time.
 “No,” I harshly stated. There it was! That was my voice; it had returned!
 I felt like myself again.
 I slowly walked to the door to see a small envelope in front of me and slowly reached to pick it up. It had a small red heart for a seal and was bright pink. What had caused a curiosity to spark inside of me was the lip marks on the envelope, those lips I knew so well with the red lipstick I learned to love. I slowly took it in my hands, fearing it, and slowly tore it open to find a letter inside. Unfolding the letter I was greeted by her lovely handwriting. I stood there reading it, getting every word she wrote memorized. She talked about getting to see me soon and how I should listen to the man that had kidnapped her. My hands began to tremble and I could no longer stand it.
 I collapsed into the floor crying those tears I thought I had runned out of.
 “I am really sorry…” I cried.
 Once again I didn’t feel like myself and I didn’t sound like myself anymore. I knew deeply what this was...it was her last letter to me and now I will always have it with me. Making me always remember her.
 Eight months ago I tried to get her back. Eight months ago  I called the police doing exactly what I was told not to do. Eight months ago they found her dead. Eight months ago I ran into this house hoping to find her there, but it soon became my prison. The prison that reminds me of her every day and how she died because I couldn’t follow his rules. If only I would had listen to him she would be here, but I couldn’t and eight months ago I lost her for good.