Blood
"So, six months, huh?" the sentence hung lazily through the air before it crashed against my ears. "Yeah, six months." my response was uninspired. I felt tired and weak. My body groaned with the effort of sitting upright as my back soon gave out, sending me crashing against the couch, gun falling to the floor making a dull thump against the heavily padded carpet. "This, is where you wanted it to all end?" the man, the demon, the haunter of my nightmares, slowly crept forward as if I was a wounded animal. I thought long about the question. I wasn't sure if I even wanted it to end. This ongoing game of cat and mouse that has robbed everything from me. It was all I now knew. "Yes, here, home." He seemed to understand wiping the excess blood from my eyes so I could see the end. At my final hour the man showed respect, a cautious, scared, respect. I couldn't blame him. In the past six months I had robbed as much from him as he from me. His family, his home, his entire organization, his friends, his life, all taken by me. He shook my hand and stepped away. After everything he took from me I didn't mind losing my life. I had taken much more from him. As I closed my eyes I heard and felt the gun go off. The man fell dead. I felt a strange sense of unease. After all this time, he had me; but he now lays dead and not me. It started as a small clearing of air from my lungs, but it grew and grew till it became a full blown shriek. Not of fear, not of anger, but of laughter. It grew in size and volume, it doubled me over and robbed me of air. I felt stupid. I felt wrong. I felt alive.