My Death

The chains rattle amusingly as I desperately try to free myself. Fear creeps up and down my spine. I look up from the cement straight into the thousands of familiar eyes. The different shades of green, brown, grey and blue burn into my skull, all of them filled with hatred and judgment. I pull harder at the thick chains and I can feel them cutting into my sore wrists. Over and over, I try to escape the angry chains, but their grip on my wrists never loosens. I fall hopelessly down to my knees and cover my eyes in shame. Tears stain my cheeks and I can feel the disgust of the audience folding around me, covering every part of me like a heavy blanket. Their whispers are barely audible.
“It is her fault.”
“She deserves what she is about to get.”
“No punishment is enough justice for what she did.”

I hear his footsteps coming closer and stopping right in front of me. I remove my hands from my tear-stained face and look into his cold dark eyes. He grabs my forearms and yanks me up from the ground onto my feet. My entire body starts to shake under his judgmental eyes. He spits in my face and let me go so suddenly that I almost fall back down, but I manage to maintain my balance. I swiftly rub the wet fluid off of my face. From his pocket he pulls a large knife that eagerly glistens in the light of the full moon. Silence fills the air and everyone, including me, is staring at the proud knife.

In one split second I feel the knife sliding into the soft flesh right above my heart. Shock races through my body and leaves me momentarily numb to the inexplicable pain. The knife twists and cuts a neat round circle around my heart. The pain comes through and I scream. I grab the place where the knife was. Blood crawls through my fingers and flows down the length of my body to the ground. My hands fall to my sides. I briefly notice the audience is still deathly silent. I stare into his eyes. His big hand reaches for my chest and his fingers glides into the open cuts. They reach my heart and rip it out of my chest. I look at the beating heart in his hand. It is still alive. My hands reach for my chest once again and feel the big empty hole. Suddenly the crowd starts to go wild. I hear the thousands of familiar laughter and the deafening applause.

My legs give in and I fall to my knees into the pool of blood. The red fluid spatters all over my body. He throws my heart on the floor in front of me. It is still beating. It still has not died. The smell of gasoline fills the air as he pours it onto my poor heart. I try desperately to contain my tears, but it escapes and drips into my blood. The end of his newly lit cigarette glows teasingly at me. His two fingers open and it falls willingly onto the soaked beating heart. A blue flame rises so high and quickly that I fall backwards. I stare at the scene in front of me, whilst the fire eagerly eats at my heart. Its beat fades until it completely disappears. I stare at it until it is only a pile of ashes staring back at me.. The audience comes into hearing again, still happily applauding this horrifying event. He kneels down in front of me. His hand lifts the blood-stained knife and slides it across my neck. I can feel my neck getting wet and I look up one last time. I look straight into my father’s eyes, burning with pleasure and satisfaction. Surrounded by smiles, I feel the life leaving my body and darkness devours me.

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