The next time you feel a sense of self, there is immediate dread, because someone is rushing towards you. Who, you don't know, can't tell, can't remember, but you are sure she is wielding a weapon – a chainsaw. For the first time in a long while, you feel fear. It is as pronounced as ever, as strong as it never was, and you half choke when Kanaya is clear – brightly shining before you – and you can even smell her, she's so close, she's -

She's running past you.

But that's not it, is it? There was a pain – a sharp pain, gone as quickly as it had come, and you feel yourself falling, falling before you even realize what's happening, before you even have a clue as to how you're supposed to react or feel, but there is pain, and you are fading.

You know this is real, opposed to all the other times.

You think – for just a moment – that you don't want to die so quietly. You open your mouth to – oh, you don't know, scream? - to breathe, to say something, to rasp a question, but nothing comes, nothing more than gurgling. Thoughts aren't coming anymore, and you try to move your hands, but your fingers don't even twitch; you see your own blood then, and it scares you, almost scares you more than the sight of Feferi's blood – but nothing is; was; as horrifying as that sight.

And you – this – this is nothing to grieve over.

In the seconds that you completely fade, as your own skin grows cold and clammy, as your breath leaves you for the last time, you realize a couple things. You're alone – alone: no one rushes over to sob over your body, no one cries out your name in horror, no one cares, but this, this is something you've come to expect. Despite that, it still stings – it still makes your dying heart ache painfully, and you choke back a sob. Tears sting your eyes, falling thick and fast to blur the shapes around you even further. And then, you realize that, despite everything, she never really loved you. Everything was fake, wasn't it? Everything in your life was nothing short of pitiful, nothing short of hated and despised, fake, disgusting.

You wished you'd figured this out sooner, you wished you'd come to this dreadful conclusion in time to apologize. But now, now you are dying: now, you cannot even apologize to her lifeless body, you cannot even rasp an apology to the air around you, you can't do anything... you never could do anything, you dully realize, because you were weak – even if you had figured out this in time, even if you could tell Feferi you were sorry, so, so sorry, you wouldn't have. You're too weak. Your breaking heart couldn't have handled it, couldn't have taken being shattered and left unrepaired again, and you're probably only realizing things now, because in death, regret is useless. These unspoken apologizes are useless, you were useless, you've always been unwanted and useless. It's all too late, you're already dead, you're dying right now, and you can't stop it.

You just wish you could have apologized. You just wish that, even though she would not accept it, you could turn back time and make things go right, make your life something not to completely frown upon in disgust.

In the end, you are only relieved by the thought that, despite everything, no one hated you more than yourself.

And that, you think as you die, is something you can stand.