The Final Sacrifice

The shovel struck the dirt above me.

A dull, wet thud.

It was my grave, and I was floating above it, watching.

My ex-girlfriend, Ava, was there, livestreaming to thousands.

"We're doing this for Liam," she announced, her voice tight with artificial conviction.

Beside her, my former best friend, Liam Davis, grunted, driving the shovel deeper.

He was performing, for Ava, for the camera, for the lies he' d spun for five years about me haunting him.

Then, he unearthed my pine coffin.

The crowbar pried it open, revealing the horrific claw marks-my claw marks-inside the lid.

But also, my diary.

Ava, pale and trembling, pulled it from the mud.

She began to read my words, words that told of my love for her, of Liam's escalating cruelty, not mine.

Yet, she still clung to his narrative, selectively reading to justify her actions.