The vision doesn’t last, and my dream for death is denied long enough to feel myself pulled back into reality. Back to Brenda.
I’m still strapped to the chair, lying sideways on the floor. My stomach turns into rock, solid granite. Eyes squeezed shut. The sense of cool steel on my burning skin, the tip of my nose, no idea which direction the blade will travel.
It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.
A flash of a thought. A hope for a quick death. The knife across my throat, carotid artery. Bleed out fast, and then it will be over.
I don’t want pain.
No more pain.
Just let me die in peace.
I start to hyperventilate as the blade travels up my nose, splitting the skin. Hot blood spills sideways down my cheek, to the floor. I think of tears. So many tears for so long, and now everything pools beneath me.
Goodbye, Thomas.
Goodbye, Mom.
“Oh God,” I mutter.
But I don’t tell her to stop.
I won’t beg.
Soon, Dad. Soon.
She’s nearly to my forehead. I try not to imagine the sight of me with my scalp untethered from my skull.
But I can’t do it. It’s all I can think of.
There’s no pain yet, but there will be.
Please just let me die.
Then:
A sound. Two sounds, actually.
Soft, like air puffing from a compressor.
Pop pop
A third sound. Wet, spongy.
Mist on my face. Something hits me in the chest, then falls to the floor.
The blade is gone. A dull thud.
I open my eyes.
Brenda is still on the floor next to me, eyes wide open.
The top of her skull is missing.