It spilled from the corners of the blade, rolling down my limp palms and dropping droplets of red, everywhere... The blood flowed as if was glad to finally be free from the prison of my veins. It poured like there was no love lost in the natural unchangeable relationship God had inbuilt.
Now, I'm dizzy staggering down the floor of the ceiling, oblivious to the chandelier in front of my... Boom... Collision... Only God can save me now. After all, the blade on my wrist was a dare for Him.
Midway through my last breath, the sword appeared, shimmery like the one Arthur wielded. It healed me... and now, I'm a recuperate, drowning in the grace of His sword.