RICHARD'S FINAL MOMENTS

In the dark room, shadows danced without feeling or care. Your arms and legs, restrained were uncomfortably warm and wet as the scent of iron overwhelmed your nostrils, while a dim light of sickly grey bounced continuously over your exposed figure.  
 
Looking down into the black crimson of the unknown an image startles you with fear, but your focus becomes irrelevant as a rush of pain slithers upon your wrists.
 
The cry for help falls on deaf ears, echoing upon nothing until you realize you have only one savior. Pain. Who will be your comfort to an unpredictable sinister fate?
 
A blade upon flesh cut vertically draining life, writing its own personal penmanship of death. A female figure at that moment walks over towards you. But it was only a cold emptiness, for she has been gone having died in another man's arms.
 
Your head shakes from a voice that cannot be heard. Your heartbeat increase but then decrease as soft hands run through your ruffled hair followed by a gentle kiss upon the forehead. But as suddenly as it was there both her and the warmth are gone.
 
As the sick gray light retreats towards the light bulb, a metallic taste flavors your tongue. Panic fueled by fear fills your mind. An embarrassing moisture spreads across your anus as eyes pooled with blood tunnels your vision.
 
But what scares you is that the fear is different. The physical and mental horror becomes one. Your vision is transformed into a crimson mask of blood that paints your face and waterfalls red. The same as the one that flows from your wrist.
 
The loss causes you to cry in anguish. Of not knowing what is real, but the path your end has taken. As you reflect slowly your feelings and pain fades away into the nothingness.
 
The last question asked of yourself is. What have you done?