Sensations of Victory
You taste the gritty dirt where he knocked you to the street; the coppery warmth of your blood; the choking bile in your throat.
You hear the shaking voice of the woman he tried to kill; the raging hammer of your heartbeat; the gasping, helpless noises from his mouth.
You smell the violet hint of her scent on his hands; the growing acrid reek of his sweat; the sick-sweet aroma of oozing blood.
You feel the stabbing aches of your bruises and burns; the shape of his body, struggling against you; your grip on the blood-slick weapon you hold above him.
But you see nothing--nothing at all--but the darkness.