The Option

I will never forget the day I died.  That is, if I can remember beyond that point.  I will never let that dreadful image of blood so deep red it looks purple leave my brain.  The way the light reflects off of its surface, making it look so thick you know it’s blood.She calls out your name. A small, simple whisper. Tauntingly, your name left her lips, sounding as if it was from all around you, every angle imaginable. So faint you doubt that it really happens. But it did, and she knows you heard her. Trembling in your shoes, you panic, and attempt to find a way out. Out isn’t an option. How you die, is the option, and it’s up to her. I will never forget the day I died. The day I was murdered by the person I never saw. That is, if I can remember beyond that point.