The man stared at me with eyes
The same colour as my own.
Fear crawled in his eyes like maggots
And the stench of sweat poured from him.
From his hands dripped blood,
And I thought maybe he was hurt.
But I realised he wasn’t a victim,
The blood was not his own.
Over my shoulder, I heard voices,
Yelling for the man to surrender.
Slowly I put up my hands,
And turned from the mirror.