Two Hands of Conflicting Emotions

“Beat me. Or die trying. There’s no other option here.” The arena’s champion says.

The world around me continues screaming into my ears. I try to drown out their sounds, but to no avail.

“There’s no other option here.”

Reality comes crashing down on me.

“Well then, let’s put up a show, champion.” Bowing low, I enter my ready stance. “If there’s no other way out of here, then let’s accept it. Go out in fashion.” He did the same.

I never expected we would be here, together, pitted against each other, despite the love, the feeling, that we hold for each other. But if this is how it must be, then there’s nothing else I can do.

May the better person win.

He started the engagement, pulling out his sword and running at me. I drew mine, but didn’t move forward. Better to drag out my short life longer.

Clang! Our swords connected.

Stab, parry, slice, tuck, roll, kick, sweep. Each move done perfectly, done precisely, done beautifully. Each move, despite being created by only one blade, felt like it was created by a million daggers. But then I realized that neither of us should be here.

I should be back home, finishing up my homework. I never committed any crime. Or even considered it.

He should be by my side, making sure that I'm not alone, that I’m never lonely.

But if this is how the world decides to treat me, I’d better accept it. And find a way out of it.

I mouth the words kill me, stabbing in one last time, accepting my fate. Because that’s the only way out of hell. To make sure you get into heaven.

His sword comes towards my chest, right into my heart. I expect the pain, the sharp and intrusive entrance --

But all I feel is love.

There I lie, sprawled across the floor, my lover beside me, for everyone to see. That he’s not so invincible after all. And I’m not as weak as they thought.

That I found myself alive only when truly dead. Because only then can I be free.