Pain. Like a thousand interrogation tortures at once. Henderson and the syringe, but also, mostly, the pain that Michelle was gone. Out of this world, gone forever. Dead.
I'm lying on the cold stone floor, and I hear footsteps running over to me. It's Jack. Jack, my best friend, my closest friend. Probably one of the only living people I could trust. He holds me tight, and I feel the pain increase.
"I couldn't do it," I manage to choke out.
"It's alright," Jack replies, "c'mere."
He pulls me in tighter.
"Stay with me…" I can barely see, but I can tell there are tears in Jack's eyes as he says this, "stay with me…"
I close my eyes for a split second, knowing that I might breathe my last breath here in Jack's arms.
"I NEED HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!" Jack's voice is shaky, as if he doesn't want to see me die, but knows it's coming. He looks at me. "No, no, no! Hang on, hang on,"
I know these are going to be my last words, but I have to get the message to him: I don't want to live knowing that my beautiful, amazing wife, love of my life, is up in heaven.
"She's gone, Jack…" I say, before gulping my last breath, and collapsing into my best friend's arms.
