You’re backed up against the wall, your heart pounding in your ears, your pulse throbbing in you veins, and your breathing erratic. And all you can do is scream, and he doesn’t stop, he still walks closer, and closer, and closer. And you feel the sharp ping of pain in your stomach, and as you look down, you see a handle sticking out. And you scream as loud as your lungs and voice box allows.
But he doesn’t stop there, he knows what he wants, and since you didn't give it to him, and since you betrayed his love for you, you’ll have to pay. You lied, you cheated him, and you thought he was blind. But all the while he followed you, he knew where you were those long nights you said you were working over at the studio. He knows.
And now you’re paying with your life. And you scream you scream until your throat is dry and scratchy and you think you can’t scream any longer. And he’s still there, smiling evilly at you. Those eyes that used to be full of love for you are full of hate pain and anger.
But you scream, and he grabs your throat with his hands, those hands that pounded the keyboard endlessly to get the right rhythm out. And he squeezes; he squeezes with all his might. And now all you have left is your eye contact. You plead with him to let go, to let you explain. But he lets go, but he shuts you up before you can say anything with a blow to the mouth.
He’s screaming now, telling you how horrible he feels, how much you hurt him, and all you can do is cry. He’s yelling at you, telling you your tears are worthless. You broke his heart, so now he’s going to break yours.
And he has that look again in his eyes, that gleam that tells you something worse, something unimaginable is going to go down in any moment. And you scream at the top of your lungs. You scream bloody murder. Because that’s precisely what’s going down at that moment, bloody murder.
And he swiftly takes the knife out of your stomach and jams it into your chest. He’s telling you calmly that he’s performing heart surgery. And you think to yourself, that he’s a musician and nothing else. But you scream you scream from the unbearable pain that is surging through your body. And he’s happy, he’s smiling. Telling you that you’re finally understanding the pain he’s been going through.
He slices open your rib cage, and you no longer scream the breath is knocked out of you, you’re dead instantly. And he smiles as he reaches in and pulls out your heart.
He looks at the bloody red thing, and smacks it onto the floor. And with his foot, he smashes it to smithereens.
Because now you know how he felt.
He felt dead.
And now you are.
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