Is she dead?

The blade was cold on my neck. He’d ordered me not to look.

“It’s easier this way.” He said, lips chapped. I twisted my neck involuntarily, the blade nicking me. Bile rose in my chest. I wasn’t ready to die. I don’t think anyone really is.

“Easier for me or you?” I retort, and the blade slid across my neck. It hurts for a moment like a needle, but then it’s across and all the blood is pressing out so fast that i just feel wet. I’m gurgling, trying to breathe. How naive. I was already dead.

“Easier for me.” Is the last thing i heard him say.

I’m draped over the table, like a table cloth, blood spilling out and pooling on the fine wood. I  can’t feel anything in my body now…it should be getting dark now, but my eyes just stay open and i can see them all looking at me, wondering what i am. Is she dead?


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