There was a moment somewhere in between those few final beats of my heart that I regretted everything I’d done to her. That moment lost in the silence as my own mortality is laid bare before me and I come to a mind fucking realisation that my life is totally fucked up because of what I did.
I know it sounds fully cliché and full of bullshit, but I swear to you there is no moment other than this single moment that I took notice of everything. The whole repenting on my death-bed and all that rigamarole that we all call bullshit on because we know too many cunts who call foul of the almighty, but it’s true, death has that profound clarity of this is it, this is me done so what the fuck am I totally sorry about in my life. In that moment her tears cake to mind. The woman who I once professed to love. The woman I’d rearranged one’s own destiny for. The woman I’d bitterly broken for nothing more than a lie told to ones self. She was my savior, and I threw her away for naught.
It wasn’t all pretty pictures, not at first anyway. It was a voice whispering to me from the void that started it all.
At first its whispering was unrecognizable, nonsensical gibberish that hanged between the boarders of noise and silence . But after a while, after what seemed like an eternity the words started to make sense, and that’s when it promised me a chance to write my wrong and be rewarded for my life. It’s words had me gasping for my own words, for I needed to reply, I needed to know why did it chose write and not right.
Finally I called out to her, to the strange voice who had so far haunted my death. There was no reply, or if there was I neither understood or heard it.
Suddenly my world was bathed in a violent array of colors and she was before me like before, still standing in the rain with that smile on her face and a bloody knife in her hand.
Write, the voice whispered in my ear. Write and relieve yourself of the burden. Enter the next life without this sin on your hands.
I clenched my hands into tight fists and forced myself to my knees before her.
I felt my body shake, as my blood emptied from within it to the puddle that had now formed between us.
I’m sorry I whispered to her and impaled myself on her knife. Her smile dropped, and I could see the confusion in her eyes. This was not her moment, it was mine.