I was beginning to end. This isn't what I had wanted. I had always envisioned my existence coming to an abrupt, screeching halt rather than ebbing away slowly, leaving the body with every breath until all that was left was a gaunt, hollowed-out shell... I had wanted to go out with a bang, so to speak. No, this... this isn't what I had wanted at all.
I managed a weak grin; I supposed I was finally going to get what was coming to me for all these years. All these years of being nothing more than a jobless, penniless parasite, a filthy street dweller. I had never really had what most people would consider a "family", but not that it really mattered anyway. In fact, it might've been for the best. I had no obligations tying me down, no restraints, no reason to feel any guilt. But now, looking back, this...this "family" might've been what I had always wanted, needed even... But at this point, it was far too late to go back and start again.
One small part of me kept nagging me, telling me that this was not a befitting end for an ender of worlds, that an ender of worlds must live on, but I dismissed it. I thought this was pretty befitting -being left to bleed just like one of them- for an ender of worlds. Yes, this was how I was fated to go. No matter how much I hated it, I knew this was meant to happen as soon as I pulled the trigger for the first time.
That night, that crisp, enchanting night, I had renounced my previous existence, painting my own death sentence across the walls in red ink. I no longer was the man I used to be, nor could I return to that life of misery. My humanity had been shed with ease, like a worn-out raincoat after the storm had subsided. I had become something more, or at least that was what I had thought back then.
Now, my world was being ended by someone who desperately wanted theirs back, someone whose "world" I had deprived them of. Such irony. I would've laughed had the situation not been so bleak, so dire. I almost wondered if my sorry life would flash before my eyes, like in the movies, but the thought just made me want to fade away even faster. I did not wish to relive my life, nor did I desire a second chance.
I felt all the life draining out of me from the wound in my side, yet...this was the most fulfilled I'd felt in a long time. I was finally going to contribute something to society; my departure would do the world good. After eons of laying there, reflecting, lost in misty, incoherent thought, I finally felt the strange numb feeling overtake me. Soupy darkness encroaching upon my fading vision, I closed my weary eyes to the world. My time had come, and that was that.