The Many Deaths of ______, #1: Lie
"I can't believe you have the nerve to ask me for a favor. You selfish prick!"
"Come on, think of it as the last request of a dying man."
"Don't look at me for pity, you chose this... Christ, you really are going to die, aren't you?"
"Well, poison does tend to work that way."
"This is no fucking time to joke! I'm calling 911, right now--"
"Listen, there's no time. I've got two minutes, at most. What's done is done, and I'm sorry. But right now, I need you to just listen. There's sometthing I need you to do for me."
"...alright. Okay... What is it?"
"I'm sorry to have to burden you like this, but... you're the last one who's going to see me. The last person to speak to me, and the only one who's going to hear my last words. And really, there's nobody else I'd rather have with me--"
"Just stop, I can't hear this... just tell me what you want to say. Hurry."
"I want you to say that you were there. You need to tell them that my last words were profound. You need to tell them that what I said was incredible, that it was perfect. That in my last moments, you knew I had finally managed to sum up my entire life in just a handful of words, and that by hearing them, you at least knew that, in the end, I had found some kind of peace."
"But... what are your last words?"
"That's just it. I can't think of anything."
"...What?"
"You of all people know I've never been as smart as other people believe. And if I were really able to contain the meaning of my life in just a couple of words, I'd probably be able to handle going on living. But that's not important. What is important is, you've got to give the people who knew me some hope. Tell them I made you swear not to tell anyone what I said, but tell them what they need to hear: that I made sense of it all. That I smiled that stupid, knowing smile I always wore. That I died brilliant, and happy, and not like this. Not begging for an awful favor from a good person."
"...I can't... I... I don't know if I can do this."
"Sure you can, it's easy--... Just... lie."
"Come on, think of it as the last request of a dying man."
"Don't look at me for pity, you chose this... Christ, you really are going to die, aren't you?"
"Well, poison does tend to work that way."
"This is no fucking time to joke! I'm calling 911, right now--"
"Listen, there's no time. I've got two minutes, at most. What's done is done, and I'm sorry. But right now, I need you to just listen. There's sometthing I need you to do for me."
"...alright. Okay... What is it?"
"I'm sorry to have to burden you like this, but... you're the last one who's going to see me. The last person to speak to me, and the only one who's going to hear my last words. And really, there's nobody else I'd rather have with me--"
"Just stop, I can't hear this... just tell me what you want to say. Hurry."
"I want you to say that you were there. You need to tell them that my last words were profound. You need to tell them that what I said was incredible, that it was perfect. That in my last moments, you knew I had finally managed to sum up my entire life in just a handful of words, and that by hearing them, you at least knew that, in the end, I had found some kind of peace."
"But... what are your last words?"
"That's just it. I can't think of anything."
"...What?"
"You of all people know I've never been as smart as other people believe. And if I were really able to contain the meaning of my life in just a couple of words, I'd probably be able to handle going on living. But that's not important. What is important is, you've got to give the people who knew me some hope. Tell them I made you swear not to tell anyone what I said, but tell them what they need to hear: that I made sense of it all. That I smiled that stupid, knowing smile I always wore. That I died brilliant, and happy, and not like this. Not begging for an awful favor from a good person."
"...I can't... I... I don't know if I can do this."
"Sure you can, it's easy--... Just... lie."