The Fall
He sat in his cell, the dim sunlight pouring through a crack in the wall while the autumn rain pounded the outside. He had lost the will to fight a long time ago but for some reason the will to live never left him. He didn't know why, it was hopeless. People thought he was dead, they had to. They'd not seen any proof that he was still alive for the last three months. They had to have given up looking for him.
He found he couldn't care less at the prospect of rotting in the dungeon he was sat in now. He was no hero, especially not the one they claimed he was. He was a murderer. After years of trying to make amends, he had finally found his redemption. He was going to die. He was going to die soon and the great Flame Alchemist couldn't do anything but wait.
He lent against the wall and thought about the things he missed.
He missed having the freedom of his hands since they had been cuffed for the last three months. His wrists were horribly chafed but the stinging didn't bother him, it was only the fraction of the amount of pain he'd felt over the years.
He missed clean clothes. He'd been sat in his own filth for so long his sense were dead, not that he minded for he would surely retch if he could smell his surroundings. His clothes were more brown than blue now.
But most of all the thing he would miss would be the flicker of her humorous smile, the way the sun glinted off of her golden hair, the click of her trusty gun as she threatened him to do his work, her amber orbs as they surveyed the office like she was a proud lioness looking over her pride, the dreamy look on her face as the summer sun warmed her face. They had survived so much together it was like their luck couldn't go wrong until now. She was his lucky charm. He would miss her, everything about her apart from one thing.
He wouldn't miss the site of her laying sprawled on the ground with the eerie site of crimson liquid pouring out of her shoulder, her eyes closed, her body unmoving. He wanted to forget the way her eyes opened, dim and lifeless, even though she was still with him. The way she stared at him as he was dragged away, so much pain and hurt in her eyes, a tear in her eye and the soft mouthing of 'good bye'.
He wished he could see her one last time while he was still alive.
He was glad to die if it meant that she could live, believing that she would live the rest of her life happy for both herself and for him as well. He was thankful that after everything that she had done for him, it was him who was taking the fall.
500 Words
(Xanadu)