Quoted By:
George composes himself, smiles and hits Helen in the face with the hilt of his blade. The resounding "SMACK" echoes through the hall's high ceiling and Helen can feel several of her teeth come lose. "no, no, NO! This is my moment and you are NOT going to ruin it for me."
Helen's first instinct is to retort, after a hundred years she knows his every insecurity and could cause him more emotional anguish than a few missing teeth could ever cause her. But she quickly reminds herself of the situation she is in and decides to hold her tongue, instead she sits silently waiting for the end to come.
George's knife has traced Helen's face and found its way down her chest where it now points directly at her heart. "This is how it was always meant to be. The real you, killed by the real me with this knife, one of the few remaining artifacts of earth. Its poetic really..."
George's expression is no longer manic, in fact looking up at him almost comforts Helen. His smile is kind, intimate, for a moment she is reminded of their days together so long ago. "This isnt a bad way to go" she thinks as George wraps his right arm around her while his left had still firmly grips his antique knife. He kisses her forehead and then pulls her into a tight embrace. The knife plunges into her breast and she gasps for air before one final breath escapes her.
George retreats, examining his work. He is now soaked in Helen's blood but somehow looks solemn, peaceful. The only sound that can be heard through the great chapel is the crackling embers of the city outside. George gently closes Helen's eyes and tries to put her into a somewhat dignified position. "Goodbye my sweet"
