Blade-side down, obviously.
You blink a few times. Your arms twitch, but you know better than to attempt some Hollywood disarmament on something that’s inches away from your face. You can’t move that fast. If it isn’t death, then it’s going to be maiming – and we all know how much you love your face.
What would you think if you died?
Bad question. What I meant to say is: how do you feel about dying? Right here, right now? You know that there’s a lot of things you didn’t experience. But are they really going to be worth it? You have a chance here. You don’t often find instant relief. You don’t always have instant release. Right now, it’s waiting at your doorstep. All you have to do is pick it up. All your goals, all your ambitions – you won’t be able to complete them, but were you going to do anything anyways?
As you mull over stuff like this, the blade twitches. Is it getting closer? You don’t know. You can’t tell, because the lights are off. You start to think “If this guy wanted me dead, he would’ve killed me already.” You’re thinking that he wants ransom. Or maybe he just likes enacting these types of scenarios. Who knows, really…
You take a breath in. Feels nice. Feels alive. You could avoid needing to do that ever again. You could have this be your last moment – your family will see you lying in bed, dripping with blood by the next hour.
A picture of your funeral scene – your family sitting in the aisles. Sobbing. Tissues being blown, existential crises, and the lamentations of “lost potential.” You smirk. You know that –
The knife – no, the person wielding the knife seems to notice. The knife waves left and right. A sheen of light reflects off of it. In the corner of your eye, you can spot something. Looks like the night vision’s kicking in.
You turn to look at them. Somebody you don’t know. Obviously. Nobody around you actually wants you dead. Well, maybe some of them. But they wouldn’t act on it. You know that. Here was a stranger who seemed perfectly willing to kill you. Ah. They’re intruding on private property, aren’t they? You commend yourself for being so calm, and acting like such a special snowflake. You wonder if they’ve been thinking about anything. You hope that you’re able to communicate with them.
It’s hard to get your point across to someone who wants to kill you, but you want to give it a shot anyways. Speak every word as if it’s your last. No stuttering, you tell yourself. You introduce yourself with an unassuming “Hey,” just to take the edge off. Just to let them know that you’re still a human being.
You wait for a response, but all you hear is the slight shuffling of fabric.
You decide to go for something exciting. Something avant-garde. Something to distract them. “I accept my death graciously. However,” You emphasize, trying to live a little longer. One more mystery before you die. “Can you tell me why you’re doing this?”