Dark On Me [End of March(ello)]

The coin in my hand was a bitter chill. I tugged off my gloves, furious and desperate, to get a better feel of the icy metal. It was a sensation that I clung to, the only sensation I really noticed at the moment. I was laying on my front, staring down at the snow and the blood and my token. The coin looked so innocent, so bent to do good, and yet now it seemed like it had turned against me. How did anyone know if a coin was really balanced, for all anyone knew it could be biased. This wasn't a tampered coin, I knew that, and yet it felt as though it had purposefully fallen the wrong way. It had decided that I would die, and Margaret took advantage of that.

No, Margaret had made it happen. She hadn't taken advantage of anything but my own foolishness. That was why the coin had frozen for that moment on its edge, why it had waited that breath to collapse. It had told me that I had a choice, that I could change my fate, I hadn't taken heed of it. Now I was laying here with a gash deep between my ribs and into my kidney. The blood on my neck had started to clot, but only around the very edges of the wound. I would bleed out, that would be how I died.

There were surely worse ways to go.

Are we there yet?

I'm waiting for it, I have a sense of what there finally means and though I might have once found the prospect saddening or terrifying I now see it as only how it was. It was like Margaret's words: that was just how things were. There is no longer a mystery to me, and as such it is no longer a terror. I can look at it directly now. In truth I had always known that there was, I just never had the guts or the heart to tell myself. "You’ve got far too much heart to be a killer." Like all else that she had said to me it was simply how it was. I knew that now, and she had already known. I am the story, and she is the message.

I push myself up onto my hands, forgetting for a moment that my cane leg would simply get in the way. When I met the resistance I lowered myself again, the reminder almost as sharp as the pain in my chest. I turned myself over, searching for something, anything that I might use to help me stand. There were no trees here, no pillars of ice, no castle walls that I could use to pull myself up. I couldn't crawl off to die, no, despite my terrible shape I must walk. I propped my cane leg up, managing to get my one knee under me. I had been here so many times before and I had never managed to stand before. I couldn't give in now.

The cane must have sunk into the snow, or met a rock and held, because as I stood - and I did stand - I hardly slipped. The feeling of accomplishment was at once glorious and shaming. I was about to die and here I was being happy that I was able to stand up by myself for once. Retrospectively, my shame was stupid. The fact that I could stand at all was an amazement in itself. I was written off as dead and my cannon wasn't far off. The resounding boom echoed through my veins like a precursor to the main event. It was as though the cannon would symbolize the last beat of my heart. Almost poetic, aside from the terrible truth of it.

Are we there yet?

They'll tell us when we reach it.

I walked to a nearby hill, finding the most sheer part of it to lean against. In order to be sitting up at the end I would need a solid backing. I scooped out some of the snow, my fingers - what remained - were so numb that I could barely feel them anymore. It was like someone had stuck sticks to my hand with glue so that they were firm and attached but I didn't feel anything from them. Perhaps that was better, letting myself go slowly numb. The cold and bloodloss would take me silently and gently, from all that I hear.

When I had dug myself a suitable spot to nestle into for the final time, I awkwardly manuvered myself into it. I had done it right, for even though I leaned my full weight on the snow behind me, I was supported. The curve of my little hole made it feel like someone was behind me, holding me, comforting me, as the world slowly became more and more white and then more and more red. I'm sure I was sitting in pink snow that would soon be red. At least I couldn't feel my back anymore.

Comfort. The word brought to mind the faces of two girls. One was blonde, and one was brunette. Both were beautiful and strong and kind. Both had been there for me through all of this, until now. I couldn't be bitter, for my death was not their fault. They had a battle of their own and I only hoped that I might have done more for them. They had done so much for me, saved me again and again, and here I was dying on them.

I never thought I would be the one to say I'm sorry in the end.

I had apologized to Margaret as we fought, for then I had still clung to the hope, the belief, the thought that maybe I might be the one to walk away from this. I had been wrong, but I did not want to retract my apology. Even now, as I lay dying, I was more sorry for her than for me. I had the name of one person on my skin, the blood of many and yet few on my hands. Right now, most of it was my own. She, though, she had two names etched into her flesh. I could almost trace the curves and lines of my own down the side of her neck and over her shoulder to her arm. It followed the flow of blood from her missing, a mark I had given her, a mark that she would carry with her no matter where she went.

She and I were still bound by a chain of red.

Are we there yet?

We were close, and she was coming closer. I didn't look for anything in her face or eyes, I didn't want to see whether she had pity or sorrow there, or even contempt. Those things didn't interest me now. I would soon be beyond the effect of her feelings, but she would not be beyond mine. I tried to capture the essence of her that I had captured from our few moments together. I was not dying, I was not dead, but I was not alive either. I simply was.

Was there anything to do now but wait? The thought that Lexi and Kate would also be waiting now, waiting to see whose cannon had sounded that day - though mine was still trapped in my veins, hidden away until that last drop of blood fled my flesh and let it free to echo through this icy hell - was worse than the knowledge that I was waiting for the moment when my life would cease. Time was moving slowly, or perhaps it had finally stopped, and I was just left here with Margaret until it began to flow like my blood again. The cannon could not stay silent forever.

I let my eyelids fall shut, calling to mind the five most important faces in my life. Maye, her large eyes filled with strength and yet a vulnerability too, Augustus, with his cool distance, December, sweet and innocent, Ellexias, a strength and beauty that I had admired from the beginning, and Katelyn, whose caring and comforting side I had needed more than she would ever know. There was one more face for me to commit to memory, to hold in my mind until whatever memory is fades. Margaret, the girl who existed until she lived. Now is when I raise my eyes to hers, now is when I take in the subtle details of her face because in time and in memory all of those shapes blur and blend, fading until only one or two points remain.

It will be her eyes that I will always know. They are wise and naive, quiet and loud, dark and light, all at the same time. They hold the knowledge in them that things exist and simply are, it is not a thing that you can deny or argue. Bias exists because we make it so. If people had not emphasized one thing over another then maybe there would be more equality in the world, there would be more chance for more people. All this understanding is hidden in her eyes, and I thank her for it. I am the story, and she is the message.

I hold up the coin so I can see the face of it, there is the message, there is the tails. It holds a ring of truth and I stroke the details, tracing each letter, each word, to internalize them. There are many things I cannot change - I am going to die today, three other people will also die in this arena, Kate and Lexi will kill or die once more - but there are many things that I can - I can give Kate and Lexi a memory of me, I can see the sunrise, I can ask to not die alone - and now I know the difference. I thought I could change whether I was going to die or not, but now I know that it was too late. I knew I could do something to ease Lexi and Kate's hearts though, or at least I hoped I could.

My numb fingers struggled to grab onto the end of the duct tape that held my cane to my hip. Eventually I grasped it and I tugged. Most of the tape was stuck to what was left of my pant leg on that side, but some was stuck to the raw flesh of my stump. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek as I tore away a fine layer of skin with the ripping of the duct tape. Finally it was off, though my pant leg and the flesh where the tape had been was still sticky from the adhesive. The Cane was free, it's beautiful lion head carving still snarling as fiercely as it had when I had gotten it. The high quality wood had weathered the harsh environment better than I had and was still glossy. Good, I wanted it to be of as much use to them as it could be.

I held the cane out to Margaret, moving it forward a couple times to indicate that she should take it. "This is for Lexi or Kate, whoever you see - if you see them." I tried to give her a smile but my leg stump was beginning to burn faintly where the new flesh was exposed. "Please see that one of them gets it." I fumbled with the coin in my hand, looking for one last time at the triangle in the center.

To Thine Own Self Be True
Unity
Service
Recovery

It was a story of healing, one that I hoped they would see. I had experienced unity in our meeting, service in battle at their side, and recovery with their healing hands. I hoped that they would be true to themselves for the rest of whatever life they had ahead, and I hoped that they would know that I had found my own self and my own peace.

Are we there yet?

The ache that was beginning to crawl through my body told me that I would be there soon, but I knew I must do this first. "And this, please. Give both of these to them. Let them know that I had wanted to see them again, and that I don't blame them for leaving." I couldn't keep the plea from my voice or my face and I hoped that this girl with her heart of steel would let my dying heart's wishes come true. Will you be my genie, Margaret? May I have three wishes?

I wish my cane and token might go to Lexi and Kate.
I wish you might not feel bad about my death.
I wish you would stay with me as I die.

I couldn't voice these aloud because now my teeth are going between chattering louder than I could think and being clenched hard enough to break my jaw. The only thing I can think of now is that I wish to see the sun rise one last time. Surely I could change that one last piece of fate. If I died now I would simply be giving in. Death would have to wait for me a while, I had one last thing to see. "St-stay with me." My chattering teeth finally part long enough to let me speak. I nearly bit the end of my tongue off with the end of that last word, but I had asked. My final wish was now in the open and it was up to the genie to grant it or leave me without. Are you a cruel genie, Margaret, or a kind one?

I think she's staying, I think I hear her settle down beside me, but I can't be sure. My frozen body feels nothing but cold fire, my frozen ears hear nothing but the hollow wind, my frozen eyes see nothing but the blackness of the night. I am still here, still breathing with a still beating heart, but I am near the end. Just a little longer, the sun will be here soon I'm sure.

Are we there yet?

Almost.

Are we there yet?

I just need to see the sun.

Are we there yet?

One more breath, one more heartbeat.

Are we there yet?

It's coming, I can feel it, it's almost here.

Are we there yet?

I see it, the first sliver of light. The day is just touching the tail of the night. The coin spins and spins, heads and day will come, tails and night will be forever. As it spins the sun shows the barest sliver of light.

The coin stops, falls, stays still. The message glimmers in the light of the new day's sun. Tails, always tails, and the eternal night. It's alright though, I am ready.

Are we there yet?

Yes, we are.

---

His eyes are open, fixed on the morning sun as it rises. In their shape is the reflection of the dawn, but they are unseeing. His body is stiff, frozen and pale in the crisp light of morning. Throughout the entire arena there is a loud BOOM

and then silence.