The End
I remembered always being hungry and cold, with nowhere to go.
I remembered wandering the streets of a town whose name I did not know, waiting for death … and it found me.
I remembered finding a way into a boarded-up house that I thought had been abandoned long ago, thick with the smell of mould and decay. This was where they would find my body, after the angel of death had visited me and released my soul.
I remembered the darkness and the pain. The angel of death had come, yes indeed, and I welcomed him with open arms. He kissed my neck, but instead of freeing my spirit, his lips subjugated me, denying me my release. His hands held me in place and his lips burned the soul within my body, damning me to eternal hell.
I remembered whispering, what have I done to deserve this, and even though his lips did not move, nor any sound issue from his mouth — apart from a guttural groan of pleasure — I heard in my head low laughter and the words, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I remembered hearing my heartbeat slowing down, and thinking it would stop soon and the pain would be gone.
I remembered, near the end, grasping his wrist, intense pain radiating from my fingertips to my arm.
I remembered the screaming, though it was not me who screamed.
I remembered the light — a blinding white light — together with pain that didn’t seem to end. My heart was still beating, though slower with each beat.
I remembered the voice, warm and rich, soothing after all the screaming.