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Couldn't she see the way she owned me? Feel it, sense it…breathe it in the very air I exhaled?
For a moment, both our eyes landed on the red ribbon still tied to my wrist, the evidence of how she'd owned me from the very beginning, on blatant display, this very moment.
"Take it," I repeated. "My ribbon. My life. My soul. My everything.” I choked out, willing her to see through my gaze that she could do whatever she wanted with me.
My life was hers. To own, to control, to give... or to take. It was in her hands.
Not taking the gun from my mouth, she leaned forward, shoving it in tighter. I stared into her eyes, showing my total trust in her.
Her expression only seemed to grow more fierce. "You daring me to shoot you? You don't think I could do it?"
I shook my head again, tapping on her hand, trying to show her what I meant.
To make her believe it.
When her face only twisted in confusion, I reached forward, cupping her jaw. "S'kay, s'kay." I nodded, giving her permission.
If this was indeed her intent, then I would gladly give my life over to her. It was what I deserved.
And, even though it would never make up for what I'd done to her, if it could give her a fragment of peace, then it would be worth it.
I'd hoped that together we could find our way back to the light again but nothing mattered more than her happiness.
When her posture steeled, I took in a deep breath, remembering the sound of the ocean, the feel of warmth of the sun on my face and the grit of sand on my feet. All things that I loved and were wrapped in memories of her.
Her laugh. Red ribbons fluttering in the wind.
Peace washed over me.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she finally understood, then the edges turned red, tears pooling in them.
She didn't move to wipe them away, and they trickled over the rim, then dripped down her cheek. I brushed at them with my fingers. "S'kay, m'polva. Do'th."
At this, she stilled, her eyes narrowing on the gun.
Her finger slid to the trigger, determination moving over her face.
I stared up at the woman who owned my heart, a smile trickling upwards, happy that I'd died by her hands and not anyone else’s.
There were a lot of things I regretted in my life, but one of them would never be coming into this building tonight. I only wished that I'd kissed her one last time before she killed me.
Just one last kiss.
There was a tap of her finger on the trigger and I held my breath, waiting for the end.
FIVE
How dare he? How could he stare up at me like that?
I could sense it, see it, feel it.
There was no denying the love pouring through his eyes, the acceptance in his gaze, the motherfucking gratitude in them. Towards me.
He was grateful to me.
And for what? For killing him? For cutting his blessed light short?
Was he even real?
