Oh but, his mind would finally be free. Through the years of torment and demons in his head, he knew only one thing could save him.

So he welcomed it. The sharp blade of the sword gently caressing his neck, as if it was calling for him to take his last breath. The warm trickle of blood that dropped down his neck and into his shirt caused his foggy head to clear.

It was as if the sun was shining after the rain, it didn’t hurt.

When he no longer felt the blade against his neck, the fog returned muddying his thoughts once again. He dropped his head, watching as his blood fell.

At the other end of the sword was a young man, clearly much younger than himself. His eyes were holding tears, the gentle kind. His hands let go of the blade, letting it fall beneath his feet.

He had never felt such a sad presence, one that longed for an escape so badly. He held back his tears, forcibly swallowing the lump in his throat.

Stolen novel; please report.

While no words between the two were exchanged, it was almost as if, in that moment, their souls connected. One's soul was calling out longingly for anything to grasp on too, anything for a taste of goodness, a taste of life. While the other was wholeheartedly feeling that impact, it called back, but it couldn't reach the other through the fog.

The two both sat there, one crying as if witnessing a precious animal being beaten, and one dry eyed, bleary, and wondering why he couldn’t escape.

Only when his blood no longer dropped and the other tears no longer fell did he become aware. He touched his neck, feeling the incision reach 4 inches long. Although it was long, it wasn’t deep at all. It didn’t feel like the other end had any malicious intent. It was almost calming.

Seeing him touch his wounds, he immediately threw his arms around the other, his grasp tight, but not suffocatingly so, his eyes began to water again and as he held him he could feel his heart warming up.

As he sat intertwined in his arms, the fogginess began to break. It flaked away slowly, going with every stroke of his hair. His arms naturally folded around the other and he began to wonder why it was he was crying; at least, only until he himself began to cry as well.

It was as if this embrace was something he had been waiting for. Something that he had been longing for more than death. This was his escape, this was all he wanted to feel,

This was his life.