Then came the night-terrors, sky was overcast, the air heavy; there was thunder about, and yet I dare not go to bed, losing myself in writing stills my quavering limbs, and when annihilated by weariness, I undressed and crept between the sheets, only to hear the dreadful silence reign over the house as I put out the light, for in this gloom I could feel someone watching me, someone soften onto my legs, groping for my heart and sucking. I promptly threw myself out of bed, opening the door, and precipitated myself towards class, but the rose bushes were waiting and my dress was no protection against the lash of their thorns that slashed me to bits, bleeding, my naked feet flayed by stones, scratched by thistles, stung by nettles and slipping all the time and time before on unknown objects, I crossed the threshold and entered the building, finding that empty seat always waiting for me, I took notes for the final time.