Jon storms in, and I am surprised to see that Martin is not at his side for once. He carries a blade, cold and unassuming, but he has all that he needs. It is not just the blade that commits such acts. "Helen."
"Hello, Jon! Good to see you again. I'd ask what brings you here, but…."
My attempt at levity falls flat as usual because I am tragically misunderstood as usual. Jon ignores me, calling out instead to the Ceaseless Watcher, demanding for Jonah to be released. "That won't work."
"Why?"
"He's occupied, I don't know. I can try for you." My words falter as uncertainty grips me, my gaze darting between Jon and the blade he wields. I don't know what I think will happen, or how all this will be navigated, but maybe I can stall things for a little bit. Where is Martin? I know Jon has a knife, I just do not think that he would take the opportunity to, well, stab me in the back. It doesn't really seem like his style, alas, I never expected death to feel like this.
I don't want to die. I feel a surge of panic rising within me, a desperate plea echoing silently in my mind. I am so scared. Elias, please, please look at me. Don't leave me like this, Elias. I am sorry. Fuck. I think he's busy. I don't want to bother him, but what do I do? But Elias remains conspicuously absent, consumed by his own preoccupations, leaving me to face Jon.
"I'm sorry, Helen." Sorry, he says to me, twisting the blade, taking it out, sinking it into my body again. Flesh and bone give way too easily to him. The pain is excruciating, a searing agony that threatens to consume me whole. It's not just the physical pain that torments me—it's the knowledge that I am nothing more than a pawn in the Eye's twisted game, a disposable tool to be discarded at its whim. Jon, you don't get it! How could he speak directly to the Watcher like that, and not see where we stand? It is a horrifying prospect to think that the Eye has grown bored of Jonah and I, that we are not what it wanted. Have I brought upon your end, my dear? I am terrified that I have sentenced you to your worst imagined fear.
"It's okay, Jon. I understand why you," I cough and sputter, my knees finally giving out. I collapse to the ground, the world around me blurring into a haze of pain and confusion, I realize with a sinking heart that my death is nothing. This small moment will be spent alone. Yes, Jon is here, but the one person I need to be here is not. We never could have been, could we?
I claw awkwardly at my back for a moment, fingers searching for the handle. He plucks it from my body, and as I lay there in a growing pile of my own blood, desperately trying to reach Jonah, Jon looks mortified as if I have done something horrible to him. My death is an act that inconveniences others around me. Wonderful. I wish I could go faster. Elias, look at me please. Just once more?
My fingers are splayed, searching and stretching. I twist the tips of my fingers into the edge of his pant leg, my vision grows weak. I can no longer see. In Jon's eyes, I am little more than a hindrance, an obstacle to be removed from his path. And as darkness closes in around me, my fingers outstretched in a futile attempt to reach Elias, I can only hope that he will forgive me for failing him. Oh, Jonah, I am so sorry.
I wonder what has his attention so? These last moments of mine drag on horrendously long with the same dreadful emptiness that haunted me in the Lonely. You know how they tell you that when you die your life flashes before your eyes or something like that? A trail of all my darkest moments spins out before me, ones I have dreamed through so many times already. I guess I have experienced such small deaths so many times. I wish I could change them, see something else. If I could spend my last moments making that awful coffee that Elias drank. If I could feel held by him just one more time, this would feel less shitty.
But alas, my wishes remain unfulfilled, my regrets weighing heavy on my soul as I teeter on the precipice of oblivion. I am sorry, Jonah, for failing you. I know you wouldn't want me to say so, but I am. I am sorry that everything happened this way. If I could have it all again, I would be satisfied with you alone. Sorry for letting go of the hope that once tethered me to this world, for succumbing to the darkness that now threatens to consume me whole. And as the shadows close in around me, I can only hope that Elias will find it in his heart to forgive me, to understand the depth of my regret as I slip into the void, my final thoughts consumed by the specter of what could have been.
And yet, somewhere deep inside me, an irrational hope persists. Perhaps, my wishes remain unfulfilled, my regrets weighing heavy on my soul as I teeter on the precipice of oblivion. That irrational persistent hope glows like a gentle far off light. I can almost see. A small ember of hope flickers within my heart. For in his eyes, I saw the promise of something more in us that I did not think either of us could have.
A delusional and naive side of me untouched by my darkness pleads with me about our love, one that transcends the boundaries of time and space. Surely our bond will endure long after my physical form has turned to dust. And though I may be lost to this world, I take solace in the knowledge that our love will live on. So as I slip away into the unknown, I do so with a final sense of peace in my heart, knowing that I am not as alone as I thought. And though my journey may have come to an end, I take comfort in the knowledge that our love will endure. Goodbye, my love. Until we meet again.
