“Please don’t kill me.” Psssh. Like any killer will go that far only to listen to a plea…
“Why mustn’t I kill you?” A million and one reasons would rush to my head but none that he already doesn’t know. This is someone who knows me too well. Someone who once loved me. With my hands and legs bound together… His fingers wrap my neck. I choke and try to fight it, and when I’m fading, he let’s me breathe. Only to do it again.
“Have I ever told you how beautiful your smile is?”, he asks me nearly an hour after one almost death trip. I can’t help it and I smile. One. My last smile went to him. He smiles back and I’m thinking to myself, maybe there is hope after all. He comes closer to me with a knife. My naïve mind thinking he’ll let me go. And he cuts out the inked patches of skin. Who is this monster, I ask myself?
“You’re not this person,” I say over and over in my mind. I swear, I think I’m saying it out loud. I cannot think of one thing thoroughly, too much is racing through my brain. Two. My last tears went to him. When he’s done, he thinks I’m a better person. More pure. In a way, he’s right, you know. No more fight left in me, no more tears left to cry, no more hate in my heart. I’m just waiting for it to happen.
Then he holds my head and looks me in the eye. Maybe the bags underneath my eyes make his heart skip a beat… Maybe the tracks of my tears makes him feel like he finally owns me. Maybe my begging and pleading cheers him on. Maybe my weak smile makes him feel powerful. He feeds off power. And what better power than my life in your hands. Looking into my eyes and watching my life slip away, feeling my pulse grow weaker right under your thumb. Feeling my soul exit my body slowly… I say a prayer. Weak smile and…. Three. My last ‘I love you’ went to him.
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