[ Death ]

She knows no bounds, no limits. 

She is final.

Her sweet embrace was a lie. Nothing sweet met anyone who dared take from her.

Yet there he was, ready to take again.

Geoffrey lay in the bathtub, the shower spitting water at his face.

He leaned forward, turning the hot water all the way up. He lifted his hands up, catching the droplets, feeling the temperature change. 

With a small sigh, he lied back down.

Steam filled the air, and the scolding water overflowed the tub.

He could barely see his own body under the clouded waters.

Banging resonated through the small room, springing his tiring consciousness awake each time.

It kept hitting, hitting, and hitting. 

It was soft at first, but only grew louder, stronger, fiercer.

Desperation.

That's what it sounded like.

His mind struggled to keep up. His thoughts slowed with each hit, and soon the sound softened, becoming a distant murmur.

He leaned further into the bathtub, his head resting against the wall behind him. 

He felt vibrations. Turning his head to the left, he saw his cellphone's light blinking and slightly moving as it vibrated.

He barely felt the water anymore. Everything felt numb.

His arm fell to the side, touching the bathroom floor, the tip of his fingers resting in the crimson water.

"Don't do this!" 

The words were sprinkled in between cries and banging, barely audible. 

That door wouldn't budge.

And even if it did, she wouldn't be able to do anything.

"I'm sorry, Lucy."

His voice barely got through the sound of the water.

The banging slowly stopped. He heard as she rested against the door, defeated.

"You always lecture me about being emotional and rash. How- How can you do this?" cried Lucy through the door.

He wanted to get some last words out, some last bit of wisdom or hope, but his mouth barely opened, his lungs barely inhaled, his will barely flinched.

It took everything he had to stay conscious, the blurry vision overtaken by creeping darkness.

Soon, the sound of water was faint and distant, the loud thumps as weak as his heartbeat.

Until there were no more thumps.

The steam kept filling the room; the water kept overflowing; the showerhead kept spitting.

Geoffrey's body was the only thing that had gone still.