I can see it, feel it and smell it, the tang of the blood.
The dark marks left upon the ground,
The rush of the wind brings the smell of sweat
And I hear the last breath being taken.
Caught, caught in the throat, gasps escaping.
Choking. He's choking.
I look at him lying there.
Lifeless. Completely lifeless in my arms.
At my hand. My brain is overloaded.
My head hurts. I can't breathe.
What have I done?
I hold him closer to me.
I feel remorse and the coldness of his body.
How long have I been here?
How did this happen?
I don't remember. It is all a blur.
I can't feel myself anymore.
I take the knife I found in my hand,
Covered in the thickness and stickiness of his drying blood.
I turn the knife upon myself wondering if I can take my own life as easily as I have taken anotherâ€™s'.
I very neatly slice the wrist in a downward motion making sure the veins are hit.
No chance of turning back.
Come for me. I can still taste his blood.
I remember how it was splattered across my face.
The breeze sets my senses aflame.
I can feel the stiffness of his body, cold and unmoving.
Death is coming for me.
I am leaving.....
I sit up in my bed and look at him by my side, peacefully lost in his own sweet dreams,
And I start to cry.