She was the last thing I saw as I was falling. Her body still twitching in the final moments of her short littlelife and if I'd cut the rope shorter she might not have caught her legs on the stool and continued to struggle for air for so long. She was cruel like that.
I was kind, I was giving us both a way out - her with the rope and myself with the drop but my plans have never gone quite right my whole life. They either live to describe me to another officer or they take so long to die that I feel guilty for being so incompetent in their dying hour.
This was supposed to be my one success - a plan without fail and two nice, quick deaths but no. I couldn't get the length of the rope right or push the stool far enough away or the drop wasn't quite long enough or I didn't land right and now we're both twitching and gasping.
Her for air and me as blood from my punctured lungs fills my throat.
At least we're gasping together.
That's nice.
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