The alley is silent. Rain glistens on concrete and tar, stretching shadows beneath a single light. She served drinks in the club until midnight. Still in her stockings and heels, she walks home along familiar streets, unconcerned. This is her city. She turns into the alley, a shadow moves, she screams.
This only happens on the screen.
In the cities, as in the towns, it is not dark alleys and desperate strangers who stalk us, who beat us, who make us beg for our lives. What twisted fate mistakes possession for love? We are owned, controlled, broken, cast aside, but if we dare begin to live again, it ends.
There is no more rain for Tara. No streets were safe for Karen. The light didn't help Rachel, or Rosemary, or Rebecca. All of them made it home; home, where the heart stops.