Ashlie was six years old, very small for her age. Her face was pale beneath her thick fringe of black hair. She resembled a frightened animal, her brown eyes wide, deeply shadowed by grey-purple-yellow, from lost sleep.
A shadow was slinking into the small room, the light from beneath the pink silk lampshade was flickering dimmer and dimmer. Ashlie was trembling, her small, thin body shaking convulsively.
The shadow had reached the foot of her bed just as the light went out. Ashlie felt a cold, flat, sharp metal object being pressed against her throat. She wanted to scream but she couldn't, blood was pouring, hot and wet and crimson, onto the pale-pink sheets. Tears ran down her face as she fell back onto the white pillows, dyeing them red with her blood.
She died bloodied, curled up in her bed, tears still wet on her face.