[https://i.imgur.com/KfbFxfz.png]

It happened in a blur. All she did was order another kebab.

Her heart stuttered. The skipped beat was like stepping into a tunnel. The patrons' laughter crackled in her ears, everything too loud, too bright. She felt out of it. Stumbled into the night.

She was being watched. Faust was at her side.

"What's wrong?" he pleaded.

She couldn't reply.

"Connie?" he said.

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She skipped another beat, the gap between them bathed in pain. She fell. Slumped on the tarmac. Heard a dial tone.

"Please, where are we?" Faust cried. "The address? Please!"

And the woman on the other side told him it would be fine. They were sending someone over. Just sit tight.

Connie lost her vision. He became a silhouette. Dimly, she perceived four others standing above her, hooded like executioners. Faust gripped her hand, full of warmth and life and thundering blood.

He didn't let go as they lifted her up, slung her down like a sack. Accelerating and turning and braking. Forces tugged her forward and back.

"Hang on," said a voice from far away. "We're almost there, Connie."

She said, "I want to hear you sing."

"What?"

"You're a singer, right? I want to hear it. Just once I want to hear it."

He opened his mouth, cutting through the rushing of wind, the rushing of traffic, the rushing of blood, the squealing of wheels and cranes and drills, and he let out a single, sonorous, mournful note, after which his voice cracked and all fell silent.