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My fingers curled around her neck, pressing hard. The uninviting stench of alcohol hung in the air, and empty cigarette packets lingered on the cobblestone floor of the deserted alley. It would have been silent, if there were no blood-curling screams coming from my victim. I grabbed her by the neck, and stared into her piercing sapphire eyes. I knew what she saw in return, my cold, brown eyes, so dark they could be mistaken for black. Her long, tumble-weed of golden hair cascaded down her shoulders, and stuck like glue the blanket of sweat that sat peacefully on her forehead. “Steady on, Clive, I can’t breathe” Whispered the girl, her voice sounded panicked, obviously in pain. “Oh, silly child. You not breathing is what i want. That fact that you even know my name is a warning signal”. She was screaming silently, gasping for breath. She tried to pry my hands away, but she was slowly losing conscious. I tightened my hand around her neck, watching her last breath escape her lips. Within seconds, she fell to the ground. “Ding, dong, the witch is dead.”