"Death becomes you." Fingertips caress feebly a collarbone of glass. The power held above my own head is as knives are against a captive's throat; he knows that the next step is the final one, and though I'd much prefer to forget the fact, I've found myself staring it in the face. 

I had forgotten how easy it is to remember. 

I had forgotten how his hands abused me, hands that crushed my spirit moons ago.