Sebastian always figured that he’d die young. His death would be spectacular. He’d fall off a careening vehicle in the midst of a car chase, he’d be gunned down by the city police force, maybe even die choking on a bad apple. But he did not imagine that he’d find himself on death’s door at the hands of dear, sweet Julia. She smiled at him over dinner;  more of a smirk, really, as his body began to shut down, his fingers convulsing as he scrabbled at the tablecloth, ripping it down along with him as he half-stumbled from his chair to crash to the floor a mere three steps past.

“You should have listened, Sebastian dear, I told you the ring was mine.”

He laughed as a light foam began to drip from the corner of his lip, painted pink with blood. “You’ll never get it, you know.”

“And why not?”

Sebasitan merely laughed, choking slightly at the feel of his throat closing up. “I’m the only one who knows where it is,” he said with a toothy grin.

No, this was not how he’d seen it at all.