Page 59 of Dance with Death

I shake my head and laugh to myself.

Why should I be careful given my intentions?

My hands are trembling because of my intentions.

Because I can’t believe I’m intent on doing this.

Can I really do this?

Just do it.

Get it over with.

I tap the sharp tip of the glass piece on the side of my left wrist. Without even pressing, I can feel the sharpness of the triangular shard. This is going to hurt—I wonder if I’ll be able to push through the pain to cut deep enough. My heart races.

I push down on the spot, just a little, just to test.

A little more.

A little deeper.

My face scrunches in pain as I drag it, slicing hardly a hair’s width into my skin. A large drop of blood pools and falls, followed by a trickle that lasts for only a few seconds. I haven’t done any damage.

I exhale, pushing out the breath I’d been holding, and out with it, tears begin to flow. I don’t think I can push through the pain of this enough to sever the veins, to let blood flow free from my body until there’s none left for my heart to pump to my organs.

Thepulse, pulse, pulsingspurts of blood from the neck of the woman who lived in my box before me suddenly flood my memory. She’d sliced her throat, fast and easy, and was dead in no time at all. Her blood had spurted from her body with each final beat of her heart.

Perhaps that would be easier…

I lift the sharp tip and place it against the side of my neck.

I press in, drag a microscopic amount, and feel the small line of blood trickle down the side of my neck.

With the blood comes the tears.

Tears for everything I’ve been through.

Tears for the life I’ll never have.

Tears for the pain of what I’m about to do.

Tears for the love I’ve lost forever.

Ezra.

Those emerald green eyes of his flash across my mind, just like they had the last time I’d almost died, when Nikolai held a gun to my head. Just like they had when Nikolai drowned me in the pool.

Here they are again. Emerald gems that sparkle and mesmerize and give me an inexplicable sense of peace, calm, tranquility. It strengthens my resolve to end my suffering now. At least I can chase those green eyes into the bliss of unconsciousness.

I pull the make-shift blade just a little farther, testing the pressure and depth and more blood trickles down my neck. But I know this is only surface bleeding. I need to press in harder—a quick draw across my throat and I’ll meet my end.

Do it.

Don’t do it.

Just do it.

You shouldn’t…

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