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It’s now or never.
Time is slowing down.
Slower, slower and slower, as her mind is screaming at her, and she sees her life flash before her eyes as the reality of the situation is dawning on her with each terrified breath she lets out, feeling the cold metal against her.
Life and death are here, coexisting, twirling together. Ready to claim, to take. Ready to change, all in the matter of seconds, ready to trade. Sharp, cold metal. A simple cut could change anything. Doing anything wrong could cause a crimson river, and for death to regin, for death to win.
And for Isabela’s life to be discarded, simply like a breath disappearing with the wind, as nothing but a limp body was left behind. All simply for making the wrong move, from making a single mistake. Everything is currently a gamble, as she didn’t know if life would prevail, or death would conquer. She's just an obstacle in the way, a sacrifice, and not a person.
All she knew was that she couldn’t move, that she was still. The body behind her, the thick scent in the back of her neck, the forceful grip of an arm around her from behind, holding her in place as she couldn’t see him, but clearly felt his presence. The self-titled executioner, the one that decided her fate. The one with the power over death. The one having complete power over her, getting to end her life prematurely simply because of a want, abusing his power over her. Claiming her life, not caring about the pain it would cause her.
And Isabela has always been terrified of death. It’s the one natural power, the one stage of life, that she’s always feared the most.
And here she was, standing eye to eye with what might be her final moment, her body trembling as she can’t do anything except feel the pure, unfiltered fear rush through her as she tries to figure out the outcome. Not even seeing the knife properly in her state, because even moving her head down just a little to see it would cause a cut, would cause her to bleed. Yet she could feel it, right there against her throat.
So close to her, like a game of cat and mouse, a game of play for the man in charge of her death. A game he could end at any given second, with Isabela having no mean to escape or defend herself. If she moved, she would be cut, her life would end, and the pain would rush through her. But even standing still like helpless prey, the decision was never in her hand. This man, this stranger she couldn’t even see, still had the soul power over her soul right now, the power to end her life at any given moment.
All so easily, with a simple slice against her throat.
She’s currently alive because he hadn’t made the decision yet.
Deep breaths.
Stand completely still. Don’t run, don’t run, don’t run. Not right not.
Running would lead to disaster. Just stand still, and maybe, just maybe, it might be okay. Believe it will be.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
Don’t make a sound. Don’t make him mad.
Don’t move, don’t tense up too much, but don’t shiver from fear either. You can’t move too much, you just can’t, it’s too dangerous. Stand still, stay silent, do as he says if you want a change of surviving this, if you really want to live. If you move too much, it might be your doom. The metal so close, right on her throat, pushing in as she felt the very edge of the sharp, cold blade against her, ready to properly cut into skin. Just shivering too much could cause disaster, causing Isabela to have to be still, to be calm, to not even be able to breathe too quickly or violently.
It could all be her doom. She could easily succumb to pain, to death, as crimson blood seeped out of her and dripped onto the ground.
One swift motion, and her life could be over. Making her embrace death, decades before her time, unwillingly and terrified.
Isabela fears death.
She fears the pain, she fears the dying moment, she fears the aftermath, and the uncertainty. She fears what lies beyond the grave, and the never ending darkness is what terrifies her the most. The possibility of her losing herself, of forgetting who she was, for there to be a lights out forever, of her forgetting everything, for everything to just be over, like a candle blown out, and then nothing but nothingness for the rest of her life, as she’s not even a person anymore. For her to fade into oblivion, as if she’s never existed.
Her biggest fear is forgetting herself, as if all of her memories simply disappear, as if she’s never been. She’s too scared to let go, not ready to die yet, when she doesn’t want to forget about her family or herself, when she’s got an entire life left to live.
The knife feels dangerously sharp to her throat as she keeps trembling, her legs feeling like jelly as she has to fight herself to not fall down and crumble. Even breathing is a struggle as she can’t think, her insides are screaming as she imagines the sharp pain of the knife cutting into her throat. The blood spilling onto the ground, her choking on her own blood as her lungs fill with the hot, thick liquid as she can’t breathe, her airways constricted. Making her suffocate, choke, as she’s overwhelmed by the pain, the silver knife stained a deep red, and her life leaves her body, turning her into a corpse lying in a pool of her own blood. The sharp pain that she’s so terrified of, tugging at her, cutting into her flesh as she’s nothing more than a cut of meat.
Isabela is trembling, consumed by fear. It’s impossible not to as she’s fighting the tears, not knowing the moment her captor will stroke. The moment he decides to end her life.
She’s not in control. Her life is in his hands, and he could do whatever he wanted while she just became a puppet. Left to his mercy, as he was the cruel angel of death, and she became nothing more than a sacrificial lamb.
Isabela continues to tremble as she awaits her final moment. When the knife finally cuts into her throat, signaling the end of her life.
And she’s not ready.