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Tommy’s last death was by the bare hands of a man.
He died with fear coursing through his veins as this person - this human who welded no sword, no explosives, no potions - beat him into the ground with no remorse.
He didn’t get to say goodbye to the few friends he had, or see the oranges and yellows of the sunset one last time. No. Tommy died inside a cell made of obsidian - a wall of lava on one side, and his abuser on the other.
TommyInnit died with harsh knuckles against his skin being the last thing he touched.
TommyInnit died with his own desperate pleas and cries being the last thing he heard.
TommyInnit died with copper and rust being the last thing he smelled.
TommyInnit died with his blood being the last thing he tasted.
TommyInnit died with his abuser being the last thing he saw.
TommyInnit died in fear.
He died alone.
He was cornered by the monster of a man who manipulated and abused him. The man who continued to do so even while beating him until his last breath. It was slow, painful, numbing.
There was no mercy, no sudden burst of adrenaline to fight back. There was nothing. It was finally his time to die, even if it was by the hands of the man who had taken everything he fought for.
TommyInnit died that moment, not as a hero or a warrior, but as a victim, a child.