As the days went by, tanks fired at me. I screamed for them to put me out of my misery, ripping them apart, begging them to do more. I spent most of my miserable time trying to hurt myself with the sword. And then I started to hurt myself by thinking of what was really the case. I beat at myself all the harder for it. Eventually, I felt myself bleed. I stared down at my hand, which was dark as pitch. The sword was not there, but the crystal was definitely in my forehead. I looked straight ahead and saw a mirror of myself, but the purest white. He had the sword. I was the dark one, the demon, the evil being. How had I deluded myself this whole time? “Have mercy, my better half,” I moaned.
Perhaps it listened. Perhaps it did what it thought was right. Thrusting the blade into the point between my eyes, I could hear it whisper, “Have blissful agony, fiend.”
Light blinded me, burned me like nothing had before. I still see it, the light, all before me. I had not the strength to scream. I don’t know how long I’ve been like this, but the light hasn’t stopped burning yet.
This one is definitely complete. Now I need to think up a new story.
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