I am hugged by the deathly cold of silence. My vision blurs, and sweat like diamond shaped tears rolled down the sides of my face. A flurry of colours disarm my eyes, greens, reds, blacks, yellows, oranges flash past my eyes, unsettling, like cars speeding down the highway at night. Slowly, sounds come to my ears.
There were lots of laughter, and breath that reeked of larger and overdue laundry. There were the whipping sounds of the winds, and the constant intake of breath. Each cold, each exhale a shuddering drag. The air stank of cheap cologne and unpressed clothing.
A slink of silk brush past my arm, a tender loving graze of material, and the red disappeared into the black and smeared across my eyes, like blood. I felt a pressure agaisnt my temples. It was cold, unnerving.
"Tell me," said a voice.
I shut my eyes, seeping into the darkness, savouring it. My hands were tight in my lap till my knuckles bleed white. My face did not betray a single emotion. The sleek obsidion of the pistol nudges my temples once more. I did not breath, and I did not know when to breath. The laughter dies away, and so did my pain and my fear.
"Tell me."
There was a sound of urgency and quiet desperation in his hoarse voice. I kept my lips sealed, pressed tightly. There was a sigh, full of regret and remorse. I could almost hear an apology billowing in the harsh winds. I smiled.
And then there was a blinding light, and I finally felt nothing.
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