I died tonight.
He killed me with his bare hands. I didn't feel a thing until I was almost dead. I was too high on the chemicals, far inside my mind.
I felt my mouth go numb as he pushed his fingers into the flesh of my neck and squeezed.
Under his grip, my throat collapsed and the shutters of my eyes flew open, throwing off the dust of the night. The greens rolled forward, once magnetized by the black hole of a destructive ego, now locked into a blue murderous gaze. I saw a fire burning so furiously that the whites of his eyes fluoresced and I was blinded.

I knew this would happen. Just never this way.
He had knives. He had guns.
But here he was instead; on top of me, knees on each side of my ribcage, using only the clench of his knuckles to force the life out of my body.

I was pressed up against the gap, seconds between a ceased existence and life. I thought I would see my memories flash before me but all I saw was sand. Falling. One minuscule grain at a time.

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