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Closing my own eyes, I try to come to terms with what’s about to happen.
Try to accept it.
Silence stretches between us.
A silence so thick and cold, I’m overly aware of every beat of my heart.
Every breath.
Then I feel his hands move up to my neck.
Fingers wrapping around my throat, his voice is thick with emotion.
With regret.
“Angel.”
I take a deep breath, steeling myself.
His hands suddenly squeeze around me, cutting off another.
After a few seconds, the air I’m holding starts to burn with the need to be released.
But I clench my hands, my nails digging into my palms.
I could fight back. Hurt him some more.
But to what end?
He’s stronger… Deadlier.
I have no hope of getting out of this.
The pulse in my temples begins to pound.
My head fills with heat and my lungs scream for fresh oxygen.
Jude’s hands continue to squeeze around my throat, showing no sign of stopping.
I open my eyes and stare into his tortured face.
Wishing it didn’t have to end this way…
But I knew the risks.
Seconds slow to the pace of minutes.
Darkness starts to creep into the edges of my vision and my lung’s demands become harder and harder to ignore.
I want to accept my death gracefully.
But the need to breathe becomes so great, so unbearable, I reach up and grab at his hands.
It starts as only wanting one more second of relief.
If I could just have one more breath, I know I could handle this.
I could do this with dignity.
