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As the doors of the 4 train closed, I could hear the sound of my breathing quicken. I've never liked tight spaces, and crowded places even less so the commute to school is easily my least favorite part of the day. Today was especially horrible as there was barely enough space to exist in that humid train car. The fluorescent lights flared against the sweat dripping from my forehead as I struggled to catch my breath. I tried to look for all the different colors I could see. The reds and blues were plastered all across the train car, as if they were yelling at me. The faces were distorted from the work of aspiring criminals. The attempt to soothe my anxiety ridden stomach was nothing but a dream. The inevitability of reaching my destination was my last string of comfort. But that too was quickly snipped by a loud screech and the sudden force of others bumping against me. The train abruptly stopped mid tunnel as an eruption of confusion, irritability, and despair filled the air. The heat skyrocketed as everyone began twisting and turning, searching for a solution to the uncontrollable problem. The sea of murmurs and curses suddenly quieted as a bloodcurdling scream broke all tension. The scream came from the center of the train car and I watched as a hooded figure rose from his seat. In his arms was the corpse of what I assumed to be the bearer of the scream. Her white clothes were completely covered by the deep red blood and in her heart lied the blue handle of a scythe. Blood splatters covered the face of the assailant and all that could be seen was an eerie smiled climbing his cheeks. His piercing blue eyes latched onto mine as the words "you're next" slithered out of him. Immediate panic and screams filled the space in a cloud of deep fear. Everyone ran towards the sliding doors at the same time, pushing and whirling the slow ones onto the floor. They quickly became limp and unconscious step stools for the rest of us to take advantage of. I tried to fight against the crowd of people, trying to move through the train cars before the man could execute my death sentence when suddenly I stopped. My body previously forcing me to run couldn't move anymore. A wave of calmness passed over me, a feeling of acceptance. Could I not fight anymore? No, I just didn't want to. I turned around, watching the man slowly walk through the abandoned cars and for some reason, I felt grateful. As if he had just promised me the relief I've been looking for my whole life. I dropped to my knees and began to smile and laugh. I looked up into his suddenly sadden eyes as he asked "do you want to die". "Maybe," I replied, confused at his empathy. "You're not good enough", he yelled as he kicked my forehead with his heeled boot.

What do I know about death? I know that I yearned for it, I begged for it. Death is the end. The end of suffering, torment. The hope that maybe in another life, I'll be able to be free.
That day, the man slaughtered every man, women, and child on that train. He painted the walls with their blood with a smile on his face. He bathed in their fear, in their pain, with no regret. But he left me alive. He sat with me and braided my hair as my body laid on the floor. He whispered stories in my ear, wonders of the lives of the people he's killed. He'd laugh as he repeated their last words. And I wasn't scared. I just wanted to be his greatest story yet.

It's been 10 years since that day and I still think about that man. They say he hung himself in prison but I don't believe them. I'm still praying that one day, he'll come back for me. Maybe one day, he'll grant me the honor of being slashed by that blue handled scythe.