Eyes of Bitter Almond

35 1 2
                                    

"How did it end up like this?" Their voice was bitter sweet and rough, whether from dehydration, the screaming, or the dust you didn't know, yet still, it was soothing to you like a gentle tide, even now, even here, in a place like this.

"I don't know." You cough, weakly, even that mere action seemed too much effort though. The noise is weak and you felt the warm, sticky liquid as it left your throat, you know the red that coats your lips, drained of their once vibrant hue, only has one meaning, especially here. Death. This time it is yours. Even the pain was dulling now, but you could still tell them by your side all the same, hands holding onto you desperately yet resigned, eyes never leaving yours despite that being a death sentence here. Then again, here, what wasn't?

You never expected to end up here of all places; the prison. The Coliseum.

Any further words you might have had to offer them, any measly bit of comfort or empty words of hope for the next life, were cut off with the next round of soul racking coughs. Their whining sounds nearly as choked as you feel, somewhere between a whimper and a sob.

There are no false reassurances. No desperate begging to hang on for just one more breath.

You simply stare up at those eyes, those brilliant, shining eyes, brimming and full of tears that will never fall. It doesn't matter where you are in the end, just so long as you could gaze into their dark not-quite hazel brown depths, it would be enough.

     To you, those eyes shine brighter than a thousand dying stars even now. Maybe especially now. All you know is you don't want to live in a world without them. 

"I love you."

You never got a chance to answer their words as a shadow fell over them both and the sword was driven into the base of their neck. They let loose a short, hollow gasp. You watched then as those brillant eyes filled before finally going dark, your own weak hands still grasping at where your fingers intertwined with theirs. Blood leaked from your mouth as they fell forward, you could tell the light was fading from your eyes as well. It wouldn't be long before you joined them. That was your only comfort, you didn't even have the strength anymore to cry out, you only wished for the end to come. So that you might possibly see them again.

         All around, distantly, you could hear the riotous cheers of the crowd sated in their bloodlust for the moment at the sight of bloodied, broken bodies.

Your bloodied, broken body. Their bloody, broken body.

It hurt. Everything hurt.

It was the end.

        It was almost a relief, when it all faded away, even if it wasn't to darkness.

       "March." The side of a stick slapped against your already sore ankles and you yelped in surprise, shooting a dirty look at the guard's back as they moved onward, the horse they rode pranced with careful practiced steps, it's head forced high, despite the heat.

      It was easy for the guards to complain about the speed, they weren't walking, nor weighed down by heavy shackles that allowed for no movement of any meaningful kind. To prevent escapes. As if the bow and sword wielding guards all mounted on horseback were not enough of a deterrent. It all felt a little hopeless and the intense heat from the metal shackles nor the shearing rays of the relentless sunlight did little to help.

     No break was given for noon, no drink was given to quench their thirst. Not since the early morning anyway.

    You felt as if you would collapse, but then you really would be dead.

Have You Ever Seen the Sun Rise at Midnight? Where stories live. Discover now