The Finale (part 1)

        Trisha used to always say that everyone's in the limelight at some point. She'd say how all the world's a stage, and at some point, every actor has a spotlight shine down on them.

        Maybe this was her way of keeping positive after years of being nothing but a background character. Everyone would notice if the coffee wasn't poured, but if you asked them to identify who did it, you'd see they'd have better luck playing Russian Roulette.

        I've decided to give Trisha what she's always wanted, what she's spent so much time working towards. It will be one great show, starring her, and it will be an unforgettable experience for any and all who witness it. So let's get the show started. Welcome to the finale.

        The curtains part, but the stage is shrouded in darkness. Only the faint outline of a person on a chair can be made out. Muffled sounds quietly make their way through the auditorium. The stage lights come on, illuminating the lone figure seated in the chair. 

        It's Trisha, but it's hard to tell. Thick ropes bind her around the stomach to the sturdy wooden chair. Her thick legs are tied together by her ankles, her once pale legs now one mass of blue, black, and red. Her long curled freshly dyed black hair hangs over her lowered, muffled head, strands stuck to her face from her tears, leaving black marks in their place. She's wearing a loose dandelion dress with thin straps, one falling off her shoulder onto her exposed arm, both of which painted white but the outlines of the scars are still visible.

She looks up at her endearing audience, her boring brown eyes wet with tears and terror. Silver shining duct tape covers the mouth she can never keep shut on her own. Those in the front rows can make out, just faintly, her thick lips attempting to move underneath. 

        I step out from backstage dressed in black with a smiling skull mask on my face. I walk past Trisha and face the audience, holding my arms out to them.

        “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the show of a lifetime! The woman seated behind me is called Trisha, and she is our protagonist tonight! Her goal, you ask? To fight off the inevitable, Death! Will she succeed? We will see! Enjoy!” I bow and step back into the shadows.

        The stage goes dark once more and two spotlights focus their light on Trisha. My hand, nothing but a shadow, rips the tape from her mouth.

        “Let me go, you psycho!” She immediately cries out, her voice reaching every audience member with ease. 

        “Now, now, let's not start calling each other names, Trisha. You know I am so much more than that.” I reply as I run my hand over her head and through her hair. She tries to pull away, but can't. 

        “What do you want?” She questions as she examines the darkness beyond. 

        “To put on an excellent show for these lovely people, of course. Haven't you always wanted to be the main character in a play?” I answer, resting one hand on her shoulder and using the other to motion at the audience.

        She squirms beneath my grip in an attempt to get free.

        “Oh you silly thing.” I chuckle as I tighten my grip on her shoulder and pull a hunting knife from behind me.

        The audience gasps in anticipation as the blade hits the light. Trisha's eyes widen and suddenly she's very submissive. She freezes in place and stares at the serrated edge. 

        “Please... It doesn't have to be like this...” She pleads weakly as I brush the blade against her face. “I'll do whatever you want...”

        “Don't you understand?” I growl as I pull the skull mask from my face. I take her hair in my hand and pull her head back. “You've already made your choice!”

        The audience gasps in shock and waits anxiously for something to happen. I let go of her hair and walk to the front of the stage. I look out at the audience.

        “Hark! This wrench sayeth she is sorry. What say you?” I call out in mockery before holding up the knife and spinning around. “Oh Trisha, precious, precious, Trisha. You didn't want to hurt me? How adorable. You left me to rot and salvage what little of myself I could. You locked me in my home, then lit it on fire so you could watch me burn. Oh Trisha, I didn't want to hurt you, but now I have to.”

        “No... no, you don't. Please just let me go and we can pretend this never happened...” She pleads between broken sobs of fear. 

        “Oh, but I couldn't do that now...” I inform her as a crooked smile breaks my face. “Look at our endearing audience, Trisha. What sort of performers would we be if we didn't finish the show? Come on, Trish. You're in the spotlight like you've always dreamed of being. You should be thanking me.”

        “No... Please... Not like this...” She mutters as I step over to her and place the knife's serrated edge on her neck. I slide it gently across as I walk behind her. 

        I press the knife hard against her neck and lean in. “Don't worry, Trish. I'll end this quickly.”

        I feel the flesh of her neck park beneath the sharp blade. It tugs against the pull of the serrated edge. Blood drips down, redyeing her dandelion dress a fresh blood orange. Her gasps for air are drowned out by the echoing laughter of the audience. I pull back away from her and look at the beautiful mess I've made. I shut my eyes. 

(to be continued...)