I saw you lying there, your face ashen with pain. It was cancer. I was just visiting. But I was unwelcome. You took out a handgun, cursed and swore that you’d kill me. I took a few steps back, until I hit the wall behind. I wasn’t sure if I was afraid to die or not. He was at your side telling you to stop, but you wouldn’t listen. You were so filled with rage and I’ve never seen you like that.
You then loaded the handgun and I swore I thought I was gonna die. But you didn’t think it was enough. Instead you took out a bigger weapon – a bazooka-like gun and for a moment, I actually laughed before I was gonna die. Then, I finally spoke up. I said, “Don’t worry. I’ll do it myself.” I took out a knife, pressed it against my cheek, and firmly pulled the knife across my face. Over and over again. Cutting in different directions. Until I was satisfied it would put your cries to a stop. I said, “Now no one will ever like or touch me again. I hope you’re happy now.” And walked away. My face bleeding. My heart still pumping. It didn’t hurt. Though I can imagine it must hurt bloody bad in real life. Pun intended.
Even if it was just a dream, I realized that, I haven’t been able to forgive myself all this while.