I can't die here. I refuse.

I take one of my hands off of the knife and grab Mickey's wounded shoulder, forcing my thumb into one of the bullet holes.

He screams and pulls away, letting go of the knife. I keep my grip on it, tearing it from my chest.

As I remove it I find it harder to breath as the air leaks from my lung. I  wrap an arm around my torso, desperate for it to stop.

"Don't be difficult, Lila." He sighs. "This is what's best."

I point the blade toward him in defense and he holds out his hand for me to pass it over. I think not.

I wave the knife around violently, slashing his outreached wrist.

He yells profanities at me as blood spurts excessively from his arm, I think I hit the sweet spot.

He swings at me with his bloodied arm, punching me across the face. My jaw aches but my grip on the blade does not falter.

He wraps his hand around my throat, I can't afford to lose the last bit of oxygen I have left.

I thrust the knife into his stomach, twisting it.

His grip on me weakens and I use this opportunity to remove the knife and stab him again multiple times.

His body falls limp onto me. His pupils dilate as he falls in and out of consciousness.
I push him off and he rolls onto his back beside me.

"I...still...love... you..." He mutters I'm between coughs of blood.

I watch as the soul leaves his eyes and his head falls lifeless.

I smile with relief, wiping away my tears with my bloodied sleeve.

It's all over.

I lay on the floor beside him, curling up into a tight ball. My lungs struggling to keep me alive.

And slowly, everything fades to black.

***

I wake up in a white room, surrounded by buzzing machinery. I'm in a hospital.

"Oh, Miss Dupres! You're finally awake." A doctor smiles beside me.

"What... happened?" I ask in desperation.

"Well when the police arrived you were unconcious and hardly breathing, but the paramedics managed to get you here in time." He frowns. "Unfortunately your friends weren't that lucky."

"You only suffered from a single stab wound to your chest." He continued. "We stitched you up and used a needle to remove the excess air from your chest cavity so your lung could expand properly."

"You should be okay to leave now." His voice sounds positive, but the frown does not leave his face.

I sit myself up and a police officer enters the room.

"Lila Dupres." The police officer sighs. "You are under arrest."

He walks toward me with a pair of cuffs and my jaw falls open.

"You have a right to remain silent. Anything you say will be used against you in a court of law."

He motions for me to stand up a I do so. He cuffs my hands behind my back.

"What are the charges?" I blink in astonishment.

"Murder in the first degree." He lists off a list of the people that Mickey and his accomplice had killed. "Cici Cooper... Randy Meeks... Derek Feldmen... Mickey Altieri..."

I can't believe my ears. I am getting prosecuted for the Windsor College massacre.

"But I didn't do it!" I plead.

"You are innocent until proven guilty."  The cop chuckles. "But right now it's not looking good for you."

I was doomed from the start.

Sidney fought with me in court- which I was extremely grateful for- but It did not change my fate.

All of the deaths were linked to me somehow, and blaming somebody else for the murders only made me look more suspicious.

The only thing that saved me was that the crime scenes of the previous murders did not contain any of my fingerprints, hair, any type of DNA to link me to the crimes.

But I was still sentenced to 25 to life with a chance of release.

****

The whole court hearing had been televised and was plastered all over every news station, newspaper, and magazine. Just as Mickey had wanted.

The only bit of satisfaction I get out of laying in this cold cell in knowing that all of the 'glory' that Mickey had wanted, I had taken that away from him. He didn't deserve it.

It worked out exactly as he had planned. I was interviewed about my experience for the next Stab movie... but I had swung a whole different narrative.

In my story, Mickey was just a helpless victim at the wrong place at the wrong time.

It brought me great pleasure knowing I had gone against his wishes.

Perhaps he would come back to haunt me for it, but I didn't care. I have nothing left to do but be petty.

In the end you're probably thinking:

"Lila, you're the real loser here."

Then why...

do I feel like a winner?