Calling Of The Wind

Short Preface

I was about to die. I was actually about to die. And beside me stood my best friend, my lover, who just let it happen. She was going to let me be killed. Right before her eyes, and she did nothing to stop it. Why? Why would you do this, Cleo? I looked at her with desperation in my eyes, but she only looked at me with a guilty expression painted on her face. She couldn't even be sad.

I stood in a room, glass separating me from Cleo. It was a small room, barely bigger than a bathroom. The only thing in there was a single light.  I felt the cold of the room chilling my skin.

Outside of the room was another room. Lots of objects barely popped out of the darkness; the only light on was the one in my prison. Cleo stepped into the room and forced me to my knees. I just stood there, motionless. I had lost the will to live. If Cleo wasn't there with me, if she didn't love me anymore, then this life was all for nothing.

"Are you ready?" Cleo asked me softly.

"No," My voice cracked, rough and dry. I hadn't had anything to drink in more than twenty–four hours. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Cleo didn't answer and instead pressed a dagger to my skin, adding on to the coldness creeping up my body. Why was she doing this? Was I on the wrong side? I didn't know. I was stuck in my head in this emptiness. I couldn't even feel anything. I looked at Cleo, but before we could make eye contact, a sound came from outside. The door burst open, and one of my colleagues runs in, shouting, "Get your hands off of Zeph!" He was wearing his police uniform, a gun in his hands.

He pulled the trigger, and a bullet aimed at Cleo pierced through the air. The sound was agonizing, but my hands were tied, and I was on my knees. And what was worse, why did I still care about Cleo? She was trying to kill me. The smell of the bullet hit me, it wasn't normal. The smell was worse, meaning It was a bigger one. It was meant to make the person hit suffer by being in immense pain, but not dying until later. It hit Cleo in the head, a vital point, making the bullet's extra power ineffective. Before she could die, she staggered and pressed the dagger even further into my throat, drawing a thin trickle of warm blood down my neck.

My life played out around me, all the happy moments I'd spent with my family. I remember when they died, and Cleo was the only person left who still loved me. Now I didn't even have her. My heart clenched. The phrase "My life flashed before my eyes" had never felt so true.

Cleo slashed my neck mercifully, the blow killing me instantly. No pain came, and the scene began to fade. Before darkness enveloped me, I looked; really looked, into Cleo's face: pain and regret. Her eyes looked redder, now that I noticed, almost like she had been crying. Then there's nothing, only a black screen; I was dead.