the fall

The blade cuts deep into you and you stop feeling the pain that you are meant to feel. Blood paints yours clothes red, the red deepening into a black slowly but constantly. It trickles down the fibers of your clothes leaving a few droplets everywhere as a sign of a long gone calamity. The cut deepens and so does the color of the blood, your smile stays the same, there isn’t even a flinch from you. The expressions don’t change. You don’t bite your lip or clench your fist. Maybe you do feel the dampness of the blood soaked clothes but you choose to ignore. Your gaze fixed in mid air. For a moment, I think you are going to scream but your smile deepens into a more satisfied curve. Everything around you is soaked in the aroma of fresh flowing blood. But you don’t even smell that. The cut which is deep enough to carve out a valley of flesh continues to grow, the blade continues to work as the flow of blood increases to an incessant stream. I want to stop the blade, but the resolution on your face binds me within my own self.
Suddenly the stream of blood turns to a proper fountain. Then two. Everything around you including your face your hair is painted in deep red, time comes to a halt, the lively fountains shoot your blood everywhere, I am not spared. I know it's too late. Your blood red face still carries the smile, the blade takes this as a cue to drive deeper. The fountain is dwindling, it's throw decreasing to a stream again, then a trickle, like everything is going in reverse motion. Suddenly the blade stops moving there’s no more to cut.
You finally look down, not without an effort. Your wrist hangs only by a tendon, drying up. There’s no more blood left to flow. You always trusted the blade to stop? The smile vanishes, I cant make out your expression. In what seems like a moment, you fall on your side.
You fall into your own pool of blood.
There’s something in your eyes, but it cant be a tear.