I was selfish when I let them take her from my arms and tie her to the chair. I had wanted nothing more than to shut her up and send out the signal for the rescue team to save her.
The answer to my question would lead to my downfall. I would kill myself out of love for her, or kill myself from the abhorrent self-loathing that would overcome me if I realized that after all this time, I loved myself above everything.
And as I would pull the trigger, I would hear her laugh.
I would remember that I had no one to slide me a new gun when my bullets ran out.
Standing on the blood-soaked street, between corpses I had shot, I would run to her and embrace her. She would stand there, stoically.
I could imagine the pain that would spread throughout my body. I would smile, though. I would smile as she stabbed me in my back. I would fall on the street and look up to her. I would spill my blood to worship at the feet of my Goddess.
