The end was almost near.
I could sense my imminent doom as though it were the heart beating under my skin, the blood swimming through my veins. I was going to die. I knew it. I could sense it. I didn’t ask for this, did I? What had I done to result in such a bloody and unchangeable fate? Was I irredeemable? Were the consequences of my actions too much for anybody to handle? Did my own family condemn me to hell? These questions were stupid, infantile, in fact, but why the hell would I care?
I was going to die.
I could sense it.
The platform was moving up, up. The porthole about me opened, blinding me temporarily. Light. The sign of hope. The false sign of hope. Up where the light came from was not where I was going. I would die looking u…Read more >