Five Ways to Say Goodbye

Prologue

Crickets buzzed, hidden away from sight safely tucked in the long grass. Overhead, a splatter of stars donned the ebony sky, their glow casting a shadow of luminescence on the ground. Dumping my backpack on the ground, I crouched on the grass, the damp dew staining my jeans.

Digging through my bag, I pulled out a folded up paper, flickering on my phone's flashlight. The messy letters were slightly stained from the ink smudging, but other than that it was the same.

"Who's it from?" I jumped back, placing my hand over my beating heart as if to calm it down.

"Oh," I whispered, "it's just you."

They slumped down next to me, snatching the letter from my grasp. Before I could grumble in protest, they were already peering back up at me, nose scrunched in distaste. Crumbling it up, they tossed it back at me.

"I have a secret," they whispered, their hot breath tickling my ear. Tilting my head so I could hear better, I waited for the sentence to follow.

"Someone wants you dead."

"What?" My blood ran cold, and I knew I was paler than the light of the moon right now. Everything was going so horribly slow and fast at the same time, my mind barely registering the glint of the knife.

Panicking, I squirmed away, my breath coming short in frenzied rasps. The attacker missed, the blade lacerating the flesh of my leg. I screamed, clawing at the assailant with shaky hands. Blood ran down my leg in little streams, oozing more as they yanked the dagger back out. My vision swam as I struggled to remain conscious, dizzy with distress.

Diving again, the blade pierced my shoulder, connecting with the plate of flesh under my shoulder and collar bone. I jerked as the knife was torn from my skin once more, a gurgling sob erupting from my throat.

With the little strength I had, I balled my hand into a fist, striking with a feeble force. My hand must have connected with their face, because they reeled back, giving me a small window of opportunity.

Burrowing my hands into the ground, I hauled myself up, hissing with pain. Limping, I hobbled away, gripping my phone. Hitting, Emergency Call, I dialed 911, my fingers trembling. The wind was knocked out of me as I was thrown back to the dirt. I didn't think this would be the way I would die.

"Please," I begged, pushing at their arms. For a moment, time stopped and I could have sworn their expression softened. Yes, I plead with the voice I cannot find, you don't have to do this. But too soon, before I could seize the moment, it went back to a steely hate. I screeched in agony as the dagger came down a final time, aimed square for the chest. Spitting out blood, I allowed my limbs to fall flimsy. All that penetrated the silence was the gentle hum as my phone waited to be connected to a hotline.

"911, what's your emergency?" Wheezing, I fought for something, anything, an ailing breath, a chance for dying words. But all I found was stony silence. Their calloused hands brushed gracefully, sweeping closed my eyelids, blanketing my graying world with black.

"I love you," they murmur, voice soft and soothing. "But I love Samantha more."