You feel the gasoline running down your body, cool on your skin.
You know, it's going to end now; every second could be your last.
But you chose this.
You chose your fate a long time ago, you already decided on what to do.
No turning back, no turning back now.
It's too late, nothing can save you.
And I, I feel this too, right now.
If I drop this little piece of wood, or let it burn long enough, I will die.
The flames are dancing, they look like they could never let harm come to anyone, but they are ready, ready to eat your flesh, to burn it away and leave nothing but bones.
And in my case, they'll leave a mystery and a single Straw doll.
That will be everything left.
My name, or that what is known of it, will forever stay in the people's minds.
And my fingers lose their hold of the cursed stick, the flames flickering for a split second, before everything around me is a sea of red and yellow.
I can't suppress the cry that forms in my throat.
The pain you feel is unbelievable.
But what did I expect?
Maybe, that it would sting, that it would hurt a little, but the things I feel now are that much worse, I can't really think.
It's over.
I'm going to die, but no one will ever know.
For them another person dies; the fourth victim of this game I play.
They'll never, never, never know it was me.
And I don't want it any other way, I don't, don't, don't want it.
Because if they did, everything I've done would've been a mere waste of time, everything I have worked for, lived for would become meaningless.
And I get eaten by the flames, my blood begins to boil.
Why, why, why can't it just stop?
Please make it stop!
I have already fallen to the floor, twisting, twisting, twisting to make the pain disappear.
But nothing can help me now.
I don't want to be saved, yet, somehow, I want to.
Part of me knows that if I don't die, everything is lost, but the other part, it screams desperately for a savior to make me feel better.
Save, save, save me!
And then, I hear her.
She's shouting, just as desperately as I am screaming.
How much time has passed by?
Seconds? Minutes? I don't know.
Everything is spinning.
With a loud BOOM!, which I almost don't hear, because of the noise coming from my burning surroundings, the door is sent flying to the ground.
'Why is she here? I'm going to die now!'
I hope, hope, hope, to die now.
But then realization strikes me.
My time is not over.
The other time's where perfect, just mine, mine, mine is wrong.
Wrong date, wrong time, wrong way.
I lost, B lost, L wins, I am defeated.
Suddenly the world around me turns white. White is everywhere.
It's cooling me, it makes my abused flesh feel better.
But part of me is not happy. It's crying, swearing, screaming.
It doesn't want to be caged up, and neither does the other part.
But this part is strangely...content.
My sight clears slightly and the thing I see makes me feel complete.
Her face looks so terrified, exhausted, angry, happy, yet beautiful.
She's talking to me, she is scared.
She is scared because of me, me, me, who everyone despises.
I grunt, though I want to talk, to assure her that I'm okay, that I'm perfectly fine.
But that would be a lie
And I'm not like him, him, him!
I hear her voice, but it's drifting away from me, I only feel the handcuffs close around my burned wrists.
She figured out. Figured my little riddle out.
And I am losing consciousness.
It's dark.
Just dark, comforting and I feel secured.
Nothing can hurt me now.
But the little sanity left in me tells me that it's over.
Everything I did was for nothing.
I lost everything.
So why am I so content?
I'll never, never, never know.
When you are unconscious, you lose all sense of time, though I never really possessed something like that, because it was never necessary for me to have.
I slowly crack my eyes open, after what seems like an eternity.
A blur of colors crashes down on me, and the bright, flashing light stings in my eyes like hell.
It hurts, hurts, hurts.
Blinking, I try to make out where I am.
I see white all around me, a little, black and green here and there and there is she.
She's staring at me like I was some kind of ghost.
Maybe I am?
She looks so worried, yet beautiful as ever.
Why can't I move my arms?
I let my gaze travel down my body.
I'm lying in a hospital bed and my whole body is wrapped up in bandages.
So I'm still alive.
That's what I dreaded, that's what I wished for.
She wordlessly hands me a mirror over and I take it from her, glancing at my reflection.
My eyes widen in surprise.
I expected angry, red, marks stretching over my face, but I only see faint, pale red scars.
I trace them with my fingertips, staring at my mirror image in disbelieve.
I am still ugly, ugly, ugly.
And she's pretty.
Her black hair flows down her back, her eyes are determined, her skin smooth, or so it looks like.
Nothing like me.
She takes the mirror from me and her gaze meets mine.
What am I to her?
I am a monster to her.
Yet she's still here, wasting her time with me.
She leans closer, eyes narrowing as she does so.
A pang tugs at my heart, and it feels like I just got punched in my stomach, just that it wasn't painful, it was comfortable.
She is so close, close, close now.
I do the only thing I want to do now.
The first and only time I'll ever do that.
I kiss her.
I kiss her like my life depends on it.
She doesn't pull away, hesitating, she returns it.
Then we break away and for the first time since I've known her, I see something like affection in her eyes, confusion as well.
Doctors suddenly rush to my side, blocking my sight.
As my bed gets wheeled away, I dedicate my last words to her.
I smirk while I get handcuffed and driven away, away, away to a prison.
I smile because I know she'll understand.
That's what I said.
"Good bye, Naomi."
