"My life's compass hath pointed me thus far." I remembered his words as though they were my own.1
"Yes," I spoke aloud to the void, to the beating of my own heart, to the beating of his. "Use the needle of your compass to sew up your broken heart, my love." His still beating heart lay before me, though none else of him did.2
I caressed it with my fingertips, his blood on my own hand. Quivering, I took up a dagger. Long contemplation had gotten me this far. I would do as I promised. "You will save me, won't you, Sara?"3
"Yes, I promise you. I'll save us both." I dug the knife deep into the heart that lay in my palm.4
I awoke to reality to find my own heart had stopped its beat.5
And as I fell to the floor, my world turning black, I could only whisper, "I did it, Jack."
