Who We Are Meant to Be

Sam

He laid a cloth upon her forehead. Drops of water fell from the sides onto the mattress. She was red from exhaustion, pleading "Please, please just let me go," she had told him this over and over again, but he sat down next to her.

He was a dark man, black hair cut short around the ears but had length on the rest. His skin was extremely tan and chiseled face. Most thought of him as attractive, and he had been with Sam for three months.

"Please, I just can't do this anymore. It just hurts so much," She cried. He said nothing. He never said anything, he wouldn't even tell her his name. He rose and grazed his hand on her lips. He crouched down next to her. He moved his hand down her face, stroking her chin, spreading his hand across her cheek. Slowly, he moved it down to her neck, brushing the back of his hand around it.

"Please..." tears streaming down her cheeks. He looked into her eyes. Brown with a glisen of yellow, maybe it wasn't all bad. His hand then clasped her throat. She was flinging her body around, her hands were bound to the backboard of the bed. Drawing her knees to her chest, and shaking her head around, the air was escaping her lungs. She gasping for anything that was around her, her mouth wide to accept the surroundings, she just wanted some more air. His grip tightened, his knuckles had turned translucent.  At first, she didn't want to go with him, but she did. She didn't want to stay, but then she had no choice afterward. She just wanted one more second, just one more chance to do it all over again... but it didn't turn out that way.

All movement left her body. The chest remained still, her eyes remaining open for all time. He dropped his hand, shook out the remaining tension that was in his fingers, and rose. 

She was always an impatient person. Eventually, the knife wounds in her side would have bled out and she would have been gone. He was willing to make her comfortable until she would leave, either way, today was the day and she was given her choice. He knew he did messy work, but he was doing what was right. He was meant for this.