It was all blurry at first, but as my vision sharpened, I saw that motherfucker standing above my open grave, grinning like a fucking idiot. The sky above was darkening, the first drops of rain beginning to fall, and the irony wasn’t lost on me. Here I was, about to be buried alive, and the heavens themselves were crying on my behalf.

“You think burying me alive will end this?” My voice came out as a croak, each word a struggle against the constriction in my throat.

He leaned in closer, his grin widening as he savored the moment. “Nope, but it will surely end you." His laughter was cold, echoing in the emptiness around us. "I wanted to kill you myself, enjoy every second, but my hands are already red. I doubt they can get any redder than this."

My mind was a storm of thoughts—rage, fear, desperation. But one thought cut through the chaos like a knife: Vermilion. She’d find him. She’d make him pay.

“Vermilion will find you,” I muttered, forcing the words through clenched teeth. “She’ll find you anywhere in the world, and she’ll make you beg for mercy.”

He snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll deal with Vermilion or whatever if she comes after me. But as for you…” He placed the wooden cover over the grave, and his face disappeared from view. “Sleep tight.” His voice was muffled now, but the sadistic glee was still clear.

The world went dark, and for a moment, I just lay there, stunned by the surreal horror of it all. Then, two loud thuds followed—the sound of his parents’ bodies being thrown onto the coffin, sealing me in with the dead. Dirt began to rain down, the soft thump of earth filling my ears as they started burying me alive.

Panic surged up in me like a tidal wave, threatening to drown out every coherent thought. But somewhere in the back of my mind, a shred of survival instinct kicked in. Don't panic, conserve your air, and stay still. It was all bullshit, but I clung to it like a lifeline.

I tried to calm my breathing, each shallow gasp of air feeling like a struggle against the crushing weight of the dirt above me. My mind raced, thoughts flashing by too fast to hold onto. I wasn’t going to make it. I was going to die in this dark, suffocating box, buried alive by a man who couldn’t even do it himself.

You know what, Fuck it. If I'm dying them I'm going out with a bang. And in a moment of sheer desperation—or maybe madness—I decided to do the one thing that felt remotely within my control.

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If I’m gonna die, I might as well get one last bit of pleasure out of this shitty situation. I started unbuttoning my shirt, my fingers trembling, fumbling with the buttons in the confined space. The coffin was so small, so goddamn cramped, but I managed to wriggle out of my clothes, tossing them aside. The damp, musty smell of earth filled my nostrils, but I ignored it, focusing on the task at hand.

I started beating my meat. I thought of Vermilion while doing it, i imagined her sucking on my dick and beat it faster. The harder i imagined her sucking my dick, the harder and faster i beat my cock.

The shirt my over my head—i didn't want to accidentally look down and be disappointed one last time.

As I worked my way through the absurdity of my last act, something kept jabbing at my side. I reached down and found my car key, the one I’d stuffed in my pocket earlier. The coffin was so cramped that no matter where I put the key, it was poking into me. I held it in my hand, trying to find a better position, but it kept tapping against the wooden top of the coffin, making small dents.

For a moment, I thought about what an idiot I was, jerking off in a coffin, holding my car key like it was some kind of talisman. But then I noticed something strange. Each time the key tapped against the wood, a tiny shower of dirt fell onto my dick. I froze, staring at the small trickle of earth. What the hell?

My breath caught in my throat, and for a second, I thought I was imagining it. But no, there it was again—a small, steady stream of dirt falling from the top of the coffin. The key must have been making a hole in the wood. I stopped everything, my heart pounding in my chest as I moved the key deliberately, scraping it against the wooden top, widening the hole.

The fresh dirt was loose, and as I worked, more and more of it began to fall in, filling the coffin. I shifted, trying to cover my mouth with the shirt to avoid inhaling the dirt, but the more I struggled, the more the coffin seemed to collapse in on me. I thrashed, clawing at the wood above me, and before I knew it, the whole thing gave way, and I was buried alive, for real this time.

I panicked, struggling to push the dirt away, to dig myself out, but the more I fought, the deeper I seemed to sink. My mind was a haze of terror and desperation, but I kept going, fueled by the sheer, animalistic will to survive. I clawed at the dirt, my fingers raw and bleeding, but eventually, I felt the cool, fresh air on my face. I had made it out. I was alive.

Fuck me sideways, I'M ALIVE. I thought and realized how stupid it was. I was only alive because of the decision of beating my meat for one last time. And of course some credit goes to my car key for it.

I lay there on the ground, gasping for breath, the rain pouring down on me like a baptism. I was alive, against all odds, and the first thing I did was grab my clothes, pull them on, and run for my car. My hands were shaking as I fumbled for my phone, dialing Vermilion’s number.

I waited for 15 seconds and then she picked up the phone. "Hello Vermilion, it's me, Godric."