Mann hockt am Boden und hält ein Messer

Not a game anymore. Another rookie translation of a #Mikrofiction.

I am standing in the corner with my back pressed against the wall. It stinks and is pitch dark in this roads dead end, and that’s just fine with me. Here no one will find my body and the chance of some idiot trying to save me again is close to zero. I just want to finish it, not be brought back again and then have to live on, because someone imagines he would be able to help me. Only this knife will help me after all. Then it will finally stop, that damn, unbearable pain. They kept using me in their perfidious game. Used me and threw me away until my soul was shattered. But this is not a game anymore, it will stop right now.
My heart beats hard and fast as I put the knife to the carotid artery and I almost don`t hear the soft whimpering behind me. I want to ignore it, because it’s none of my business. The tip of the knife touches my skin, and with the faint burning, there is this noise again.
Damn it.
My eyes search the corner between the dumpsters, while my hand is holding its position. There I see a small movement and realize where the noise is coming from. For a second my heart stops and I turn to ice. My God, how can anyone do that?
As soon as I can move again, I turn round and with a rattling noise the knife drops to the cobblestones.
I bend down to help you.


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