Don't waste your breath.

That was the message my eyes sent to him.

As I looked down the line... he was no different.

In fact, he looked, perhaps, more fragile than the others. Like glass, one fall, and he would break.

But he was strong, and in the end, he was the victor.

Blood flowed from my wounds- the ones he himself had caused- in vehement torrents.

In his eyes, I saw regret. It was his parting gift to me.

And as I gasped out my last breaths to him, they refused to form words...

But I'm sure he got the message.