pipedraems:

YA LIT MEME: [2/4] deaths

my hands flurry in the air like startled birds, trying to halt the spear’s relentless movement towards my belly. but i am weak as a baby against hector’s strength, and my palms give way, unspooling in ribbons of red. the spearhead submerges in a sear of pain so great that my breath stops, a boil of agony that bursts over my whole stomach. my head drops back against the ground, and the last image i see is of hector, leaning seriously over me, twisting his spear inside me as if he is stirring a pot. the last thing i think is: achilles.