I watched the life fade from his eyes. Part of me, the part that wasn’t currently dying, was almost fascinated at the way I could literally watch as all the happiness he’d ever felt drained right out of his soul. If pain was a tangible thing, I imagine it would be pooling around his feet. It would probably be red. Like blood. I could almost see it now; an ever-expanding crimson wave draining out of him- reaching toward me with sticky red fingers. As if I’d stabbed him, right through the heart, and he were dying. I feel like I am dying.
This was a bad idea.