BEDAUERN
She's the first to see him.
It seems to her that time froze. Like she pressed the wrong button and now the movie is jammed on pause and she doesn't know how to make it play again. Like something went wrong --because it is going wrong-- and she's just the witness. A helpless, unmoving witness. A spectator horrified by the show who wants to close her eyes but is unable because she's fascinated. That's what she is right now.
Fascinated.
She can't take her eyes off the black figure coming down, an impossibly long sword ready to kill.
It's only a second, but she sees the death of her friend, of the one who shouldn't --can't-- die. Not right now.
It's morbid. Because the girl is kneeling, praying for humanity, and she's about to get murdered by a madman and nobody can feel it coming.
She feels nauseous at the thought of her friend laying on the marble floor, never to rise again. She thinks there must be something she can do, but then she thinks there's nothing. Because really, she can't stop him. Cloud could, but he's standing in shock on the side, staring at her friend and shaking his head. The time it would take for her to take a step toward would result in the dead of the girl. It's crazy.
For a moment she believes that a little angel and a little demon have appeared on each of her shoulders. One is saying she should ignore what's happening, pretend she hasn't seen anything before the others, act as surprised as everybody else when the blade plunges through her friend's body. The other one says this is her chance to do something, to finally contribute to their quest, to protect more than a small group of people --she'll protect the world. She knows one means Life, the other means Death.
But Death for who? For her? For the Planet? Who will live? Her? Aerith? The world?
If she really had time to debate, she would. She would sit and ponder, maybe for hours, and then she would decide what would be the best --for everyone.
Before, she never really acted for herself; it was always the others that came first. She can be like that in her last moment, she decides. But doubt tugs at her heart; does she want to die? Now? She barely had time to live yet. She's twenty, in shape, has a lot of friends. She just started her life.
Now she asks herself another question: Is her life worth living for? Does she want to continue on like this, fighting for salvation, fighting for revenge, fighting for love? She always told herself she had the sob story people would make sorry faces at. Not that she told it to anyone, but it was worth telling. A village burned to ashes, a father killed by a madman, a first love ripped away by the army. She had joined the rebellion for a reason. She had wanted to help. She still does, but she's facing her biggest dilemma.
She compares the two options to suicide and murder. She either jumps and gets killed (she knows that even if she wasn't his target, he won't spare her), or watch Aerith as the life fades from her lively eyes.
She's aware somebody is going to die in the next second, and she's aware that the identity of the victim rests on her.
(It's such a burden.)
Then suddenly, she feels ridiculous. What can she do if Aerith dies? She doesn't have any superpowers; she only has herself. She tries to convince her mind that it's enough, but her heart isn't shaken. They are two great opponents but the victory has been long given to her heart. It stands its ground, and in the next second she will die.
The moment she surges forward, she feels somewhat at peace. Not completely but it's better than nothing. She had expected to feel stupid and impulsive --throwing herself to death-- but she is pleasantly surprised. Well, as much as she can.
Even though she knew it was coming, the moment the blade slices through her body Pain makes her presence known. It's excruciating, scorching, savage. It's too intense to bear and she can't stop the tears and the cry.
When she pushed Aerith out of the way, she fell to her knees with her arms over her head as if to shield her body from the impact. She knew it was useless but instinct took over. The sword went through her back in an awkward angle --she can sense it-- and came out right under her breasts, but not in the middle. The throbbing is more pronounced on the left, and her mind chastises her heart That's what you get.
She leans forward and she realizes the sword is withdrawn from her body. The ache is more intense and when she hits the floor she starts coughing up blood. Her left hand comes to grip her shirt, but all she touches is a warm liquid. It's too warm for her hand, which still blindly searches for something to hold on.
The liquid (she knows it's blood but calling it that makes her end too real) is flooding her throat and she doesn't think she'll be able to speak. She coughing, coughing, coughing, and the pain inside is way too powerful for her to handle, and she wants it to end NOW.
As little dots --they look like snowflakes-- begin to dance in front of her eyes, she panics. She's dying. She's fucking dying. There is a sheer mist of regret clouding her judgment but it suddenly overflows her mind. What did she just do? She doesn't want to die!
The hand not cradled again her chest reaches for something that's not there, and even though it's futile she doesn't stop. She wants comfort, she wants heat, she wants life for god's sakes.
Why did she do it?
She knows she probably did the right thing but it doesn't feel right. Did she really want to sacrifice her existence for the right deed?
No, she didn't.
She didn't but it's too late. Her desire was to help and she fulfilled it, but now all she feels is regret, and it makes her cry more.
Her eyes finally rise --wait, no, somebody picked her up. Cloud's face comes in sight. His own eyes are blurry with tears but it seems to her they won't fall. Or perhaps they already do, she can't see well. She knows she must be a pitiful mess.
There's a new noise entering her ears, a shout coming from far, far away, and she wants to say it's the shout that will bring her back to reality but she knows that'd just be a lie. She listens to her pulse, as the sound is the loudest of them all (buzzing, yells, sobs --she can't tell them apart) and it's slowly fading away.
Only now does her heart registers all she's leaving behind. Images of Cloud enter her mind but she thrusts them away. She already regrets dying; she doesn't want to regret living. A swift flash of hate crosses her. She wishes Aerith had died instead of her. She wishes she hadn't moved. She wishes she had ignored Sephiroth coming down with a satisfied smile on his face. But most of all, she wishes she would feel like scum for these thoughts.
From the distance, something shakes her. Her body is numb. She's cold. She's sleepy. The pain is no more than a dull ache now. She feels better.
And she's gone.
A/N: Bedauern means regrets in German.