To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
– Hamlet act 3, scene 1
It was silent.
Silence was strange to me, especially after the past few months. I took a deep breath, eyes fixed in front of me on the figure. His eyes watched me cautiously. He had closed off from me, and he knew I was his enemy.
I longed to know what he thought now. Knowing might aid me in surviving, something I did not think I was going to be able to manage to do. It was my own fault, I had carelessly followed after him, into his trap. I had knowingly done it. I suppose, this whole situation could be considered by some to be some sort of ironic suicide.
The monster paced, eyes peering at me. He was trying to figure out what I knew, trying to figure out what I would do. I did not even know that myself. His eyes gleamed with devilish delight, when he was positive that his plan had worked.
His lips pulled back into a smirk.
I grimaced and crouched down, ready to pounce.
The monster relaxed his stance, smiled lightly and he was suddenly gone. I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths then smiled too.
There was no pain...
