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thin crimson droplets of blood trickled down my throat as the tip of a well-honed dagger kissed my adam's apple. the soon-to-be killer's fingers rubbed over the promising ametrines embedded in the dagger's hilt as she demanded, voice firm,
"and what shall be your very last words?"
exhilarating mania and crippling despair wove their way into my growing smile as i dizzily replied,
"of words, i have naught to offer the living. to the ghosts behind my back, however, i say this." i paused, took a deep breath (my lungs already greedy for the freedom suspended in the air between me and my killer), and continued.
"at last, i have won and you have lost.
long have we ate and drank side by side; long have we walked and slept as if we were one. long have you been the loyal shadows that sustained me in the lonely deserts. long have i been the hopeless moon that revolved around you with a devotion that could put to shame the whirling dervish.
the day has come for me leave you behind. you shall die and i shall be set free at last. free to finally be able to walk the path my feet were always destined to carry me across. at last, at long, long last."
my beautiful killer's eyes widened ever so slightly with every word i spoke. confusion and fear marred her perfect face before a wave of realisation came and washed all her beauty away, leaving in its place an ugly, pitiful sort of hopelessness.
more mania widened my smile even as more despair stole the light from it. more fear and hopelessness filled my killer's eyes. the ametrine-encrusted dagger slipped from between her shaking fingers and landed on the ground, the sound muffled by the soft, wet grass. without another word, she suddenly spun around on her heels and ran, and ran, and ran — until all me and my ghosts could make out was a faraway silhouette sprinting up the hillside.
the despair spread from my smile to my chest and lodged itself there, an unwanted yet oh so familiar weight. the mania, too, crept out of my smile and called to the ghosts behind me, inviting them to come closer once again. the silhouette of my would-have-been killer, my should-have-been saviour — the short-lived manifestation of all my defiance and hope — was fading away, perhaps forever this time. the ghosts were reaching out to claim me with their seductive hands, perhaps forever this time.
and so i did what i had always done best: i let the tears fall as i bowed my head in submission.
perhaps forever this time.
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the would-be killer is me, the should-be killed is me, and ghosts too are all mine because we cool like that✨
