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I feel like I’m trapped, tied to the rack. My arms are being pulled in different directions, and my body is being ripped in half, the muscles tearing with a sound that makes your teeth hurt. No sound escapes my lips as I’m torn. The look on my face is enough. I can feel the life run out of my body in a red torrent, my skin grows colder by the minute. It should be torture, but it’s nothing to what is going on in my head. Screaming over and over WHY!?!?!?!?!?

As I turn my head to the one who is torturing me, I see the only one cold enough. I see my first son, the only one just like me. And I know that I deserve my fate. As my eyes widen in understanding, he smiles, tears on his cheeks.

"I know," he says, "I feel this too," and he kisses my lips as he gives the last pull, the one that calls my death.