To Perceive an Image

Fifty-Four: Images of Inexplicable Pain

With one last look at a semi-smiling Flynn, I shove my hand in my pocket, ready to press the button.

However, a pain shot through my abdomen, pausing any future actions. I was smiling one second and in pain the very next.

I look down to find the origin of the pain and notice a knife plunged into my abdomen.

Noir stabbed me.

My chest depleted me of oxygen, leaving me and my hazy perception. Confusion lingered throughout my moment of wonder before pain joined it.

Physical and mental pain.

Why did he stab me?

"You should know to never mess with me," he whispered in my right ear. His arm wraps around my shoulder, the other holding the knife in its place. Almost as if the idea of it leaving its spot scared him.

"You never know," he mutters, "I might cause a fatal wound." He emphasized his words by pushing the knife further into my abdomen. I scream at the pain I can't escape. My legs give up and drop, making me land in an astonished Noir's arms.

I was clinging to consciousness, not knowing whether to pull the knife out to end my suffering quicker or let it do its job protective job.

The arms holding me up did a great job of keeping me stable, and I stayed in tune long enough to hear Noir speaking before letting my eyes close.

"N-no, no, no, please, d-don't die."

Noir's voice grew distraught as he lowered us to the ground. I felt his hand that was previously holding the knife caress my cheek. My eyes pushed harder to stay open and succeeded. I watch Noir take a shaky breath while his hand trembles against my cheek. His eyes were wide open as he stared ahead. Deep thought swirled in them, captivating his attention.

I threw the fact that he was my assailant out the window and relished in how his growing panic made him look like the same Noir I knew as a kid. The friend who would protect me from anything. And for that reason, I asked him for help. I did it in the same way baby Azail did.

"It hurts, make it go away."

My voice came out strained, but he heard it. His eyes widen further, and his eyes shoot to mine. I know that at this moment, unexpected guilt hit him. But I have no time to dwell on that.

A glimmering tear makes its way down his cheek, he closes his eyes before shaking his head.

I'm hurt.

I know.

Stay awake, please.

I can't.

He shoves his hand in the same pocket that held the time machine, taking it out. Ignoring the questions thrown at him by the now-awoken women, he presses the button.

Maryanland, October 26, 2040, 12:59 PM.

It's funny how this spot has become where all of my life's craziest events happen.

I don't know if it was fortunate or unfortunate that I stayed awake on our short trip. Awake to feel the sharp edges of the knife in my body. Awake to feel the pain I've never felt before and can't describe. Noir, the gentleman he is, had rested me down in the same open field we had been watching moments ago. The one filled with anger and confusion. It now only has my injured self resting on its ground. Noir has disappeared, and that's a fantastic thing. Most shops were closed on Fridays, meaning there weren't many that could help me.

They tell you to keep the knife plunged into your body in place, but they also say to apply pressure to the stab wound. I'm confused about what to do, and even if I knew, I don't have the strength to do either.