Scream for help

The second I feel the cold edge of that blade, instinct kicks in. My mouth opens and I let out the loudest, most **** scream I’ve ever managed in my life — a raw, ragged sound tearing out of my throat.

“HELP! SOMEBODY—!”

But Trevor flinches, eyes wide with panic at the noise, and in the same breath his panic turns to rage.

“Shut up!” he snarls.

The blade flashes, and I feel it — that fiery, burning slice across my throat.

Fuck.

I stagger back, hands flying to my neck. Warm, wet blood gushes between my fingers. I fall to my knees, **** on my own breath, my scream cut off, replaced by wet gasps that don’t bring air.

This is not good... am I dying?

My vision blurs, dark spots dancing in front of my eyes. I see Trevor hovering over me, shaking, muttering something I can’t make out over the roaring in my ears. I brace for the final blow, knowing it’s coming, knowing I can’t stop it.

But it doesn’t come.

I gasp for air that won’t come, gurgling, drowning in my own blood.

Somewhere in the dark, there's a commotion—a shout, the thud of a body hitting the wall or something.

A figure kneels beside me. I can’t focus, can’t breathe.

“What a shame,” a deep voice murmurs, regret threading through the words. “I’m sorry, I was too late.”

Lips brush my neck. There’s a sudden, sharp pain... then the wet, awful sound of gulping.

It doesn’t hurt. I’m so confused. How is this... helping me?

But I don't feel pain anymore, just a strange bliss... I can't see or hear anymore, but it doesn't matter anymore. Everything will be ok.

Darkness closes in and I accept it.

THE END