A tense whisper echoed in the dimly lit alley, ‘we need to get out of here, now!” I glanced back, but all my eyes could perceive in the jet black alleyway was the unmistakable mark of blood. This, however, didn’t frighten me as I was more worried if I had been caught. My hands shivered from the dense, cold air that surrounded me; the sharply dull knife, light shimmering through the dark and crimson blood that covered it like a coat, held tightly by my gloves which were ‘repainted’ by the oozy crimson blood which dripped from the glove to the blade where it concluded its journey on the hard, cold, rigid concrete surface.