Is this finally happening? The man who made my life hell for as long as I can remember is dying in my arms.

I used to daydream about how he would die. I used to wonder if he would be in pain when it happened. Would it hurt as much as he hurt me? Every insult hurled at me, every slap across my face, every sinister grin flashed at me, all of it fueled my hatred for him. I hoped for nothing more than to be present for the moment his evil soul left this earth. Being responsible for it would be icing on the cake. So why now, as his weakened body lays in my arms gasping for air, am I feeling sad?

I hate this man, but seeing his face get paler by the minute as the blood drains out of him, makes me scared for him. He is responsible for so much pain and torture and heartache. I should not feel sorry for him. But he looks nervous.

“You used to say all the time that I was your favorite.” He slowly looks up at me, wincing as he tries to adjust his position. “Yes, I did.” He barely gets the words out.

“Did you ever mean it?” Silence lingers in the air. He stares at me with a contemplative expression, almost like he’s trying to decide in the moment whether he meant those words or not.

“Once, yes. But only once.” He looks relieved at his confession.

“When?” I choke back tears of anger, “When did you mean it?” I don’t want to give him the power of knowing that I still care about his opinion of me, but this may be the last moment I have with him. I need to know if everything I ever believed was a lie.

“The day you left.” He manages a small grin, “That was the moment when you finally made a decision for yourself. I knew from the beginning you were too strong for me. That’s why I held such a tight grip on you.” I can’t tell if the pain in his face is from his body approaching death or from him finally being honest with me. “But I knew it wouldn’t last. So when you left, I was beaming with pride, because I was right. I knew that’s what you were always meant to do. I saw what you were supposed to be- an obnoxious pain in my ass. You were my favorite when you decided you were ready for it.”

He begins to smile, but it’s cut short as he coughs up blood onto his shirt. Both of us knowing that he’ll be dead any second, we choose to sit in silence. His breathing becomes more strained and less frequent. I watch as his eyes slowly lose their life.

“I forgive you.” The words surprise me as much as they surprise him. He finds my eyes again and in the moment they meet, he breathes his last.