I knew I would die with a weapon in my hands. I just had never expected it to be my enemy's weapon, shining red from where I had extracted it from my flesh.
My right hand felt at my stomach, trying to find the wound, but I couldn't focus anymore. For all I knew, my entire hand could have been in the new hole.
Dirt got in my mouth. When did I end up on the ground? Now aware of it, the hard earth seemed distant and painful, somehow at the same time.
I spat and choked, but no air filled my lungs. This was the end. I thought I was prepared for it. It should not have been this hard. Humans were born to die! It was simply my turn to fall.
My vision was shrinking. This was probably where I should have been bracing myself for death. Maybe wondering what side of the afterlife I would be sent to. My pride wouldn't let me.
Instead, I stared at the ground, and I waited. I concentrated on nothing other than the darkness battling with my unyielding consciousness until it took me.
Eira was 14 when I fell in love with her, and 17 when I decided to kill her. Maybe not the best way to say "I love you"...I probably didn't think it through enough. But it's not like I could take it back.
Even as I watched her slowly bleed to death, I couldn't bring myself to try to take it back. I didn't call for help or take her back to the village. In my mind, all I could do was continue with the plan.
I crouched next to Eira's dying form, fading into the oncoming night. She clutched my dagger like a lifeline. I joined my hand with hers on the hilt.
It had taken all of my willpower to kill her. But taking the weapon would seal the deed. Once done, there would be no return, she was fading too quickly.
I closed my eyes and pulled. Eira's limp fingers put up no struggle, and at that moment I knew she was gone.
Forcing my eyes open, I stared at my final work. Not at the corpse that was once my love, but at the dagger I had reclaimed. The weapon that was her doom. That should have been her salvation.
I had killed before, but it had never been like this. Why was this different? Something was wrong with me.
Horror tinted my vision. Horror and confusion. My mind was screaming, or maybe it was my mouth.
But I continued to follow the plan. The blade turned in my hands and, still screaming, I plunged it into my chest and sent myself to Hell.