I find her lying against the wall of the cell where she had been imprisoned. She has definitely left this world; she no longer walks beside me.
She stopped breathing a while ago. Her once rosy lips are now covered in dried blood. Every trace of color has vanished from her face, and her eyes have lost their characteristic glow.
A sharp pain pierces my chest like nothing I have ever felt before. The air escapes my lungs, and I feel the pressure of invisible hands tightening around my throat, gripping so hard I can't look away from her.
It is torture to see her like this. I can't move my eyes.
I became familiar with blood a long time ago, but seeing it on her makes me sick.
But such pain is nothing compared to knowing who is to blame for her dreadful state. I freed her, but in doing so, I have condemned myself to unbearable suffering without her presence.
A tremor runs through my knees; I feel them giving out. I clutch the iron bars, just a breath away from collapsing and becoming another body in this cell. Part of me wants to follow her—it would be easier.
I rest my forehead against the cold iron and try to breathe slowly, to regain composure. Never has a situation been more torturous than this. I don't want to turn around and face reality.
I choke back a sob with all my strength.
"If we meet in another life, I truly hope you won't trust me, for I might lead you to your death," I whispered into the void, my voice barely audible.
The words linger in the air, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
"I love you," I confessed, after walking away from the cell.
Of all the moments I once imagined to reveal my feelings to her, this was the last.