So here you are. Waiting to die.
You can't bring the clown down, right? Wrong. Your ass is face down in the dirt, bleeding out that sick, wicked indigo. Nobody is mourning you. Nobody here by your side to say goodbye or to pardon you of your sins.
Nope. Your ass deserves this death as much as any other motherfucker of any other motherfucking hue. The last thing you heard anyone say about you was the sharp hiss of "murderer" on Kanaya's breath. Then, for all they cared, you were pushin' up daisies.
Yeah. That seems pretty reasonable. Perfect punishment for the imperfect crimes of murder, blasphemy, and mistreatment of one's kismesis. Death. By bleeding out. Gives you a lot of time to wrap your thinkpan around some things. Like, why'd ya do it? For messiahs and miracles, of course.
Well, there go all your questions. Ain't no more wrappin' to do now. Just time to wait.
Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. and Wait.
You watch the purple ooze out of your mouth and onto the dirt. It mixes with brown and makes the most appealing, satisfying color. So rich with waves of grape and mud.
Makes you think about Tavbro.
That hurts. The pounding in your chest. Pushes more blood onto the ground and you feel it. REALLY FUCKING FEEL IT for once in your miserable waste of a life. Pain. Not like, lovelorn or moonsick pain of a bro in love. Physical pain. Shit man, that shit hurts. Motherfuckin' bleedin' out on this waste of god's dirt that's up and holdin' your soon-to-be corpse. Your bloodpusher is about to give up on life and pushing blood.
About damn time.
And in one long, lazy blink, you are no longer feeling the pain of the cold ground and the holes in your body. Nah. You're now in one big empty field. You see other trolls, down the way, and look for jovial paint and mirthful attire, beckoning you to messiahdom.
But shit the universe is working it's ways against them, because you spot the face of Vriska Serket, who waves at you. She killed over before everyone got their hate working on you. She sees you friend, not foe. Hopefully.
Behind her is, oh, well shit. Behind her is the universe patting you on the back and saying, "You fucking won the game of life, here's your prize." Behind her is the brownblushing boy of your dreams. Sweet little Tav running up to greet you into the afterlife where the two of you will live forever, telling story and playing games. All on the sloppy makeouts, if things work in your favor.
Its Serket that reaches you first, as the ways of in front and behind works, and she is laughing like it is just the dawn of jokes day. It sounds kind of harsh. Kind of sharp and mean. She gives you a big slap on the shoulder.
"8oy, you sure fucked up!"
Oh.
So you get to thinking that shit, maybe they have gotten their jellies onto the observing of your heinous sins. Maybe they just did see you push Terezi to the edge and help bring back the baddest bitch of the pre scratch crop.
When Tavros comes up behind her you want to open up your arms and give that boy a big fat embrace. Though as you get your gaze on harder and you look for the same feeling in his sheet white eyes a churn in your stomach tells you that he ain't feeling too keen on you and your feelings. He downright has the motherfucking hate curling up inside him and you shrink back just a little.
"Gamzee." he says. Ain't no sweet boyish charm up in his gums.
You open your jaw and feel the pleas start to rise up but he just keeps on with the anger and the rage and the words.
"You don't deserve to be here." He says. You about get to asking just where here is. "You deserve to be boiling alive while wild barkbeasts eat your sick, rotting flesh."
A sting sharper than the motherfucking blades on the chain of an electric saw cut into your gut.
"You're a murderer, Gamzee."
Murderer.
If the Angel of Double Death was real then you fucking prayed for him to come in that moment. You wanted to be free of existence. Gone. Fucking ERASED.
Vriska was walking away already, still mad with cackles and he spit one final goodbye at you.
"So take your miracles and shove it."