The creak of the gate seemed familiar. There were cops around searching for evidences, rather like stray dogs looking for food, looking around and under the bushes in front of the yard of the Villa. The door was left open as though waiting for a long awaited guest, which was highly unlikely in this case. I walked in through the doorway. The familiarity was disturbing, because I couldn’t remember how and when was I familiarised to the place. I got flashes of images running through my mind; I felt the tingle in my fingers as a memory was being revived, as if being dug out from the grave. There was a girl, leading the way, holding my hand, pulling me along. The vision was vivid, her back facing me, and then she turns and everything is blank; I don’t see her face. I was in pain now and remember being in pain then. I could see myself fall to the ground and felt a strange pain at the back of my head. The last thing I remember seeing was the rugged carpet and was now sad I couldn’t see her face. The same carpet was now stained in blood.