Blood sprayed upward, arcing. Some splattered against his chin on its gravity defying route. He reacted with a yelp, his head moving in direction with the blade swipe. His chest rose and fell quickly, his teeth dry against his gasps for air.

"No," he said. A simple syllable.

Blood stained his undershirt, the crimson seeping into white cotton.

"No, don't -- don't do this to yourself, Eridan. You need to. Release yourself from this -- from what we do to each other." This was his time to talk, right now, while he still could. While he wasn't screaming, while he wasn't gagged.

"You torture me, and you've declared your future already."