Should I have tried to save him? It seems unlikely that there was anything I could have done. Admittedly, the thought only occurred to me after he had passed on, the room drifting away with him. I could feel the moment he slipped away and I’m still waiting in the black void that took the place of the room.

I wonder how much time has passed. Wouldn’t it be nice if when I opened my eyes, I could wake up, and realize this was all a dream. Well, not all of it. Just my part spent wasting away in this endless void. I want to wake up, and be young again. There was less weight on my shoulders then, but I know this is an impossibility.

There is definitely a sense of relief. I’ve suffered enough. I’ve earned this relief. After all, he is the one who brought us to this point. He drove us straight for a cliff, and then bailed out in the final moments. Now, he’s gone. It sounds false when I say it out loud. This should be a celebration! A demarcation of this day as the day I emerged victorious. Relief is an understatement. I’m overjoyed beyond belief.

But there is another side to it. I can feel it there, even if I try to ignore it. Is it mourning? That doesn’t feel right. It isn’t grief, either, those sound too clinical. It’s more basic, a stirring within me that feels almost primal. Generations ago it was packed away in the human psyche, forgotten until the day it tipped over and slammed to the floor. No way to ignore it now.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

I know that I’m going to die. Fear is not what I’m feeling. Death’s consistency made it undeniable from a young age. I hold no delusions about the universe’s shared destination.

The only thing that’s changed is that he won’t be around when I finally go. I’m sure it sounds strange given that I have spent most of my life trying to defeat him, but always figured that when our time came, we would leave this world together.

How did he do it? I had my defenses up, I know who he is, and what he is capable of. It’s like I can feel something crawl around under my skin, searching for a place to build its nest. He used his final moments to corrupt me. And I let it happen.

But that’s not entirely true. I haven’t let it happen yet. This isn’t a dream. When I leave this place, I will still be at her door. I haven’t knocked yet, she has no idea that I’m even there, it’s the last moment before it’s too late, one last exit. It’s my decision to make, and he can’t do a thing about it. I know what I have to do. I’m just not sure why I still want to stay in this place.