“We are in this together, but I’m not sure I can trust you,” he confesses under his breath.

I take a step backwards, confusion distorting my expression. “Now? You’re saying this _now_?”

“It wasn’t supposed to end like this, _I’m sorry_.” Translucent tears stream down my face as he now holds a blade to my neck. Tears of his own mirror mine, though I’m not sure if they’re tears over me or from the guilt of what he’s about to do.

“I promise, I’ll make it quick.”

“Wait—” I raise my hands up, palms facing towards him in surrender. “Please, I would never do anything to break your trust. I can _help_ you, just tell me how!” If I weren’t being held by the point of his blade, I would’ve been begging on my hands and knees. We’ve made it too far in this war for him to pull an act like this.

“The only way you can help me,” he begins, lowering the sword from my neck; hope flickers inside of me. “is by dying.”

He plunges the sharp blade down into the side of my stomach; the impact hits me like the rush of a thousand waves. I grasp frantically at the wound, feeling lightheaded as I touch the sword protruding from my side. I fall to my knees, cradling my stomach with my arms as if I can protect what’s already been broken.

“Wh-Why?” I stutter as my own blood invades my mouth, spilling out onto the cold, concrete floor.

He looks like he’s the one who has been betrayed as he stands above me, his hands trembling and soaked with crimson.

“We were never going to win this war, and it was only a matter of time before you joined them; I had to do it first,” he utters, his voice barely a whisper.

“What do you mean ‘joined them?’ You aligned with _the other side_?” Before I can throw any insult, I choke on my own blood—violent coughs erupt from my throat.

As I’m in the midst of dying, he answers my question with another. “Why are you confused? They offered you the same deal, and you were about to agree! I had to take it up before you did—there was no choice.”

His expression changes from furious to doubtful as I speak the only words I can: “What deal?”

He hesitates as if he’s about to accuse me of being disingenuous, but even he knows there would be no point in maintaining some grand lie in my last moments.

“No, no!” He throws his hands up to his head abruptly, pulling his hair in frustration.

“You weren’t supposed to be this clueless!” He paces around the room, furious at me or himself—I can’t tell.

“Their team offered us both a deal to join their side at the expense of the other; they said they had proof you were going to accept—there was even a written note in _your_ handwriting!”

Even as death leers near, I’m able to scoff. “Yo-You really thi-think that they can’t fa-fabricate a letter?” I barely manage the words out as blood warps my speech.

He looks at me wide eyed; I watch as the regret dances around in his eyes, though I can’t tell if it’s truly real or an allusion from my loss of blood.

“We _were_ in this together,” I begin, summoning the last of my strength to speak as clearly as possible. “but now I know I should’ve never trusted you.”

He flinches as I repeat a tweaked version of the same words he spoke to me before he ruined both of our lives.

The last thing I see is his face beside mine. Black sprouts in my vision as he tries—too late—to manage my wound; his repeated apologies fall on deaf ears as my senses fade away.

I’ve worked so hard, yet it all fades away.

I’ve overcame so much, yet it all sinks into quicksand.

My life has been stolen, and now it all fades into

no t h

i

ng

n

e

s

s