She was sprawled in his arms, eyes open, as if she was daydreaming. The dreamy look in her eyes was not, in fact caused by absent-mindedness, but it was the harsh look of death. He could feel the blood seeping between his fingers as he held her crumpled form. Rubble and dust surrounded the two figures that were perched on top of a dry hilltop that shuddered under the weight of the man's guilt. He raised a hand to his face, shielding his grimy and bloody forehead. He allowed himself to cry. The tears stung and felt unknown in his golden eyes. His tears mingled with the gore on her torn chest.
It was his fault. If only he could of run faster and maybe, just maybe, he could of saved her life. He had vowed to protect everyone. He had failed. Why?
The world gave was into dizzying black and infinite nothingness. The world seemed to creak and groan like an abandoned house. The sky became shapeless, morphing into something that most definitely wasn't blue. He would let himself disappear. If only he could escape his world of murder and hatred. He let out a strangled scream. There was no end. No matter how many times he cried and let darkness invade him, no matter how many times he abandoned everything, there was no end. Her eyes were so blank, so unaware that the man who held her and cried was the very man who had let her die. He was the reason her breath fell short and released its last hope into the sky.
Was it raining? Was the world warm with the greeting of the sun? Was he still on the hilltop? Was he alive? Was he dead? He couldn't tell. Surely this was the end. This had to be the dead end he cried out for. Surely he was at the gates of death. And with one more desperate hope of salvation, he spiraled down into a hell of nothingness.