(Work in progress :))

There was an odd serenity in knowing death was near, in knowing that this excruciating pain would be over soon. She would be lying to herself if she said there wasn't some form of sorrow, regret festering in her gut. With all the pain her existence had brought her, she supposed even she didn't want to die. Her eyes drifted to the one who stood over her, the one who had forced her into such a pathetic position, the one who was the reason she was still clinging on to her insignificant existence. Their eyes met the victor's and one might have thought she would've been angry, vying for some last resort of revenge, that even if she was dying, she would bring the other down with her. At the very least, one might've thought she would've held nothing but malice for the one who had brought her to death's doorstep.

But she didn't.

Her heart was warm, overflowing with nothing but adoration, devotion to her murderer. She had always known this day was going to come, death was inevitable. It gave her nothing but a solace to know that the one who had finally to her had been none other than her, the most beautiful being she'd ever had the pleasure of meeting in her insignificant life. The one who had made it seem, even if just for a few moments, worthwhile, made it seem full. And now on death's doorstep, she couldn't help but think back to how this had all started. How a mission had sent her on this journey, the one that had led her to love, meaning, and finally, to death. (gxg)