I see the nearly living mass of thorns shift, then begin to uncoil. However, the ones binding me in place do not loosen. A quick glance to the side assures me you are still bound to a column; the black things have not released you, either.
The thorns begin to weave themselves together, and soon they have weaved into one long, thorny ‘spear’, and it rears up, like a serpent about to strike.
That is when the reality of the situation hits me. I can tell you are picking up on it, too, because you start to struggle more.
“Just sit back and watch,” I hear the heartless controller of the thorns say to you. “Enjoy the show.”
“Like hell!” I hear you shout. You almost free yourself, but more thorns snake their way around you to hold you firmly in place.
So I am the one…the intended target.
I am going to die here, and there is nothing anyone can do about it.
At first, bitterness fills my thoughts. Well, finally. About damn time. Now I can get out of your life and you can be happy for a change. I can get out of everyone’s life, and things will be better for them.
But…
A sadness creeps into my mind.
I will never see you again. I will never hear your laugh, see your smile, or dry your tears again. I will never again have the opportunity to get lost in your eyes, or talk to you about your problems (or mine). I will never be in your arms again, safe in your warm embrace.
I will never get to tell you the truth.
The thorns binding me in place pull my arms back to expose my chest and abdomen, giving the spiny javelin a clear target.
I hear you shouting my name. Your voice is pained, frantic. Or maybe I am just imagining it.
I turn my head toward you because I am unable to turn more of my body. I speak your name, my voice little more than a whisper, with as much reverence as I can muster. I try to continue, but the thorns around my neck tighten, cutting of my air supply. Tears well up in my eyes--Now I will really never get to tell you.
I hear the plant mass before me shift, and I snap my head back toward it. Though my vision is blurred, I can tell it is pulling back, preparing to impale me.
I squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself. In the seconds of waiting that follow, I begin to think a thought over and over.
I was once told that if one thinks loud and hard enough, those close to them will hear it. Praying that is true, I think the thought like a chanted mantra as I wait for the end.
It is a truth you already know, but one I have not told you myself…one I have never said out loud. Is it reaching you now? Or are my efforts in vain?
Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou--
A soft whooshing noise, a slight breeze.
Pain.
An agonizing, excruciating, ripping and tearing pain.
I cannot bear to open my eyes, and I do not need to; your screams tell me everything I need to know. I feel something catch me, but I have no idea what--it may be the thorns, for all I can gather.
Soon, the pain fades, and all that is left is an unbreakable silence and a strange but not unpleasant feeling of draining, of becoming clean.
There is blood…a lot of it. I know this because I feel the warm ichor gushing over my arms, and what is left of my abdomen and chest.
After a moment, even the draining goes away, and I begin to feel empty, but again the feeling is not bad. I feel my heart beating slower, and it is becoming harder and harder to breathe…And suddenly something penetrates the silence.
I hear you calling me, calling my name, begging me not to go. You sound so far away…It could be that you actually are, or maybe it is the cathedral; earlier we joked about how we could be standing right next to each other in here and still sound miles apart. Far away or not, I can still hear the tears choking your voice. Hearing those tears brings fresh ones of my own.
I want to answer your call, to tell you not to cry for me, but I cannot. I finally force my eyes open and see the cathedral’s ceiling for the first (and last) time.
It shows a scene of what must be Heaven, with two angels embracing, one with red wings, the other with black or perhaps dark blue wings. Despite everything, I smile. The angels, now disappearing from my vision, look just like us.
As the nothingness of death sets in, everything begins to drift away from me. But I cling to any thoughts, memories, and feelings of you, refusing to let them go. Now I see nothing, feel virtually nothing, know almost nothing…and I can no longer hear your voice.
As I fade, I wonder if my words reached you. Just in case they did not I shall dedicate my last thought to them, to you.
…I love you…
-Fin-
