How had I not seen this coming? All of the signs were there, yet I had heeded none of them. Perhaps my hard head got in the way one too many times. Yes, that sounded right. It was too late to stop the oncoming events…especially the one I was ensnared in now.
I cursed myself with filthy lips as my life poured out of the deep wound in my chest. The puncture just missed my shriveled heart, but was still close enough to allow only a few more minutes of living. It felt strange to see my body marked and bleeding by someone else's hand. Usually, I would be sitting alone in the inky darkness of my abode and fiddle around with a familiar blade, welcoming the cool steel into quivering skin. Only after the deed was done did my body stop its shaking, ready for another day of lonely existence.
I had never recalled shedding tears before either. I would feel the tingle in my nose and the burn in my empty eyes, but then it would only turn out to be a headache. But…now…even the cold projectile that had been so violently thrusted through me was soaked. I wasn't crying because of the searing and unbearable pain or because I was sad of leaving this world. No.
They were for her.
Finally being able to protect the one I love filled me with such joy that the burning, lethal wound was all but forgotten. Mind and body pulsated, trying to tell me my end is drawing near. Only once before had I been so close to death. But even then it was on the inside. And it revolved around the one who had been like a sister to me. However, this girl, the one I'm crying and had taken the blow for, was far more than that to me.
Her name is like that of a delicate flower. A flower protected by way of sharpened thorns, A flower smelling just as sweet, but not wanting to be called by another name. She is my Rose.
And now, she is just a Rose; my sacrifice having nearly severed my link to her world. Her life. Her arms. Perhaps even her love. Who was I kidding? How could she love one who is unable to speak his mind? I cannot even face her directly to convey my bottled emotions. Not even now, here, on my deathbed. I am the very definition of pathetic. Not even being able to compare with that Faker placed me distant from the mind of Rose. Maybe it is best for me to die and eternally leave her within the care of her friends and loved ones, for I certainly have no significant part.
Thankfully, the threat I had been facing had met the lethal point of my Spear and was beheaded. The bloodied head lolled back and forth near the rusted storm drain. His once vicious, yellowed eyes now bulged from their gory sockets, leaving me pleased with my work here. The aftershock of energy that had been released by my Spear had torn his body to shreds. No longer shall he haunt beyond these walls.
With the last bit of my strength I could gather, I brushed my fingers against her cheek to wipe a tear away. And with my final breath, I whispered to her, "Live long, my Rose."