The last moments are the hardest. It is the time you have to reflect. What could I have done better?
To say that your life flashes before your eyes is an exaggeration. You do remember the most significant things, but thinking of that time when your little brother scribbled on a book you were reading, or that day when it was raining, and you slipped and scraped your knee? Not likely.
All the people in your life who were counting on you. What will they think, when they see your body in a wooden box? When the life has been drained from your eyes, and they will never hear your voice again?
The pain comes second to the grief. What about the things in the future? The ones you would have been there for? Your cousin's wedding, your sister's graduation. Essential parts of your loved ones lives, events you should have been at in reality, not just the hearts of others.
It is the winner, though, that you must feel truly sorry for. We will come to peace in death, not having to live with the murders of our friends. They will be forever haunted by the memories of the arena, the imagined spirits of those they killed enough to keep them isolated, lucky if they end up sane.
Maybe that is what the capitol is really after. They say that only one will survive, but that one in the end will be witnessing a fate worse than death. Remorse.
It is a struggle to keep my eyes open. The weight on their lids is like they are being tied down, into an eternal sleep. Does death have dreams?
A dream would be almost like a form of life. A connection to the real world. Who knows what it is really like, because know one has ever come back to tell the tale. And that is the whole point. It is the unknown, a blank area.
Is death the end, or the beginning? Could it be the start of a new adventure, or is it being condemned to nothing, emptiness, an eternity of dreamless sleep?
Saddest of all is that when I know, it will not matter. Because there will be nothing I can do to change my fate, to search for a better ending. It might not be so bad, if I am reunited with those I have lost. But an eminent threat hangs overhead, the possibility of solitude. Facing death alone is unbearable.
How would I say goodbye, given the opportunity? Would I cry, or hold out strong? How does one react, knowing they are about to die? How do I react?
My eyes are fluttering, and even with them open, everything is a blur. I can't tell how long I have left, but I can not feel my body any longer. It is just my mind. Standing alone. Expanding. Shrinking. Folding over on itself.
Time means nothing. Just life, and death. I am on the bridge. An unsteady, creaking, swaying, frayed rope bridge, that is my last hope, and when the bridge falls, I fall too.
My mind whirrs. It is taking so long. So, so long. When will I erase the memories, the sorrow, the pain? When will the darkness come and sweep me away, into uncharted territories, but also relief?
Even my past is fading away from me. It is part of the journey, a stop along the ride.
I let my eyes shut, willing myself to sleep, sleep and forget, sleep, and take the pain away. Just sleep, sleep forever.
As my bridge falls, I form two last thoughts.
Good bye.
So, that was a little weird, I know, kind of short too, but I wanted to go in depth with it, rather than just a few sentences at the end of a long story. It doesn't even have that much to do with THG, but that is what inspired me to write it.
