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I stand here waiting for you. Are you even going to come? I have no choice to but to believe you will, because the alternative is too painful, too much to consider. I'll just have to believe in you.
But is that enough? It is for me.
Is it enough for you? To know that there is someone waiting for you to come?
I don't know. I guess I'll just have to believe that it is. It should be, but then, when is stuff the way it should be with you?
Shadows loom over me, getting closer. I can't remain standing so visibly. Until you come, I have to save myself. Once you're here, you'll protect me the way you always do. No matter what your quirks, that is something you have been completely reliable about: being there for me.
Oh, God. You will come. But will you come in time? Will it be too late for me? Because if it will, I know for sure that it will be too late for you as well.
The silence seems too loud. It can't be right. My instinct is screaming at me, saying that it's not over, yet it seems to be. All those stealthy sounds have diminished to nothing. What is that supposed to mean? I remain in hiding anyway. No point taking a risk.
Seconds tick by, and I know that they seem longer than they are. I look at the time every other second, impatient and twitchy. But all sounds have definitely ceased, and the silence that was so loud ten seconds ago now seems heavy with something like lead, pressing onto my ears, my brain. I am afraid to even breathe properly, afraid that they would take that as a sign of life that should have long ago been extinguished, but has survived thanks to nothing but plain dumb luck. But how far can luck take me? And where on earth are you?
And then a blast -
I gasp and shield my ears, which are ringing from the gunshot. I foolishly wonder if, within a second, I'll feel the pain and find myself bleeding. But I'm unharmed. That doesn't make me very happy.
I creep up from behind my rocky shelter and see the evil shadows bent over something - someone. I can't see the unfortunate person, but my heart is screaming. I don't want to see who it is. I don't. Because if I do, something inside me will shatter.
But I ignore that, my curiosity only slightly dampened by fear and foreboding. Apparently convinced that their victim was dead, the shadows move away, giving me a very clear view of the corpse.
My heart stops.
Collapsing on the rock, my eyes feeling like they were made of stone, I stop breathing all together now. The shadows come closer to me, I feel them, rather than seeing them. My eyes are still fixed on you. Or rather, your body. You are gone. I knew it.
One of the shadows raises its arm, with the weapon that killed you clenched tight in it. The shadow cocks its head, as though wondering what would happen when it finally did what it intended to. I can't care. I am already dead.
Slowly, it drops its arm. I can see its evil grin. And they loom away, leaving me to my death at my own hands.
The sea washes over us, mother and daughter, lying side by side. The gentle caress of the ocean feels like heaven. Is this how it feels where you are? Because this I would describe as the most beautiful feeling in the world. The points of light in the sky are burned into my eyes from constant staring, so even when I blink, I see them. I can feel my life flowing out of me, from my arm. And I'm not scared.
Because where I am going is where you are, and I know that you will shield me from everything over there, too.