A heart attack.
That was how it all ended.
Blackness, dark, cold, pain.
Death.
He could feel it's cold fingers squeezing the last drops of life from his convulsing body. He screamed to the only one he thought to have been on his side. The one who had killed him, black notebook in hand. He cackled at the sight of his previous source of entertainment writhing in pain on the cold floor. He had always said that he would be the one to kill him. Now that it was finally happening, he couldn't stop the game from ending. Darkness closed in around him, his life fading fast. He closed his eyes. The convulsions stopped. The slip of paper, red with his blood, lay on the ground. It was over.
The game had ended.
The dream was over.
