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IT'S 26° FAHRENHEIT outside of late December 16 when Kio fell fast asleep on the couch nearby the fireplace, accompanied by an antique novel resting loosely in his hand. Old love songs in his cassette tape murmured in the background, offering calming music as he took his peaceful slumber on that winter night.
It was 11:57 pm when someone else had gotten inside their home sweet home, and nobody knew.
The stranger went over to the where the radio cassette player stood, only to turn the volume higher than before - purposely drowning the living room in a slow, tepid melody.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey..."
Finding its final stop, the mysterious shadow made its way to Kio in silent, obscure footsteps. The dark silhouette towered over the young man's sleeping figure for a little while before slowly revealing what's hidden behind its back. Glistening in mid-air was the sharp blade of the steel knife, perfectly leveled just above the unconscious lad's torso.
The clock struck 12 midnight, and the knife went all the way down to precisely impale the flesh of Kio's thorax. He shot his eyes open in horror as soon as the knife dug in deeper into chest, looking at the eyes of his murderer.
It was someone he had never met before, a stranger whose eyes only craved for bloodshed, and only gave no mercy.
Blood soon gushed out of his mouth and it trickled down to the fabric of his white clothes, soaking it into a deep sanguine hue. Pain struck him as soon as the shock had subdued, brewed by an indescribable puncturing and burning sensation like he was being torn into pieces.
His jaw went slack for a gasp as the blade had gotten pulled out of him, along with whatever strength is left of his heaving body - but to solely be speared again, yet this time, through his beating heart.
The metallic smell of his blood had drastically saturated the winter air. thick scarlet bled down the novel he once held and seeped into the antiquated pages, blotting rapidly into the inked words.
Time went fast, but his went back. He looked into her eyes as the knife pierced deeper and deeper down his heart - the way he had fallen in love with her. Kio stared at Michiko the way he did the first time they have met, the first time they have kissed, and the first time they have vowed; he stared at her like it was the first, when it was the last.
Kio never stopped looking at her eyes, silently wishing she would remember him again, just so that he could have the chance to bid his final goodbye.
That stranger slowly turned into someone he had always known, someone whom he had always loved. The prism by Michiko's eyes swirled down into confusion, guilt, and regret—but it was all too late now.
Mouthed out from his lips were the last words he'd never gotten the chance to voice out.
