Dizzy with terror and holding his breath out of fear of cutting himself on the blade against his skin if he so much as let his chest rise, Prompto felt frozen, floating. It didn't feel real. Like a nightmare, a bad joke. So much of the last few days had felt like a bad joke.

He saw Noct's face contorted with rage and hatred, that look he'd never leveled on Prompto that would haunt his dreams even if he understood now it hadn't been meant for him. His own best friend trying to kill him.

The knifepoint was so sharp, the barest kiss against his sternum had soft skin parting beneath it, barely deep enough to bleed but enough to make Prompto hiss and clench his teeth in anticipation of more pain.

Was it okay to wish for his friends to come for him, to come rushing into danger for someone like him? How could he want that, when it put them at risk?

I wonder if it's fallacy of the cruelest sort to even hope at all.

The knife slid down his exposed chest, a tingling, unpleasant sting and sharp pain as it bit through skin. It wasn't possible to hold his breath much longer. Slowly, trying his best to focus, Prompto tried to breathe from his stomach shallowly, holding tense and very still as the tears slid down his temples and onto the cold metal beneath his head.

Ardyn was playing with him. Like a cat batting its living prey around for sport until it finally got hungry enough for the kill.