𝟎𝟐𝟐. 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠

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IN MY TIME OF DYING
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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ chapter twenty-two, season two

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ chapter twenty-two, season two

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𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟖𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔
―୨୧⋆ ˚ MARLEY'S POV

𝐈 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐈𝐄. To have your eyes close and never wake up, to take your last breath and stop breathing, to stop living forever. While it may be strange to imagine what death is like, it's even stranger to watch yourself slip into death slowly. I know my time is coming, sooner rather than later, and some part of me is almost prepared to let go, but another part of me can't seem to.

I thought I'd feel strangely at peace, but instead I'm standing here, silently begging myself to wake up so I can see the ones who need me── the family who needs me urgently.

While I'm... unconscious, Sam and Dean appear to be fine. Both have marks and cuts on their faces, but they look good considering the accident that occurred. Is it silly that I'm wondering about the Impala? I hope the car is okay. Well, I know it's wrecked, but I hope it's salvageable at least.

After discovering that I was, in fact, a freaking spirit, I haven't moved from this spot across from my bed. I've just been staring at myself, waiting until I die── if I die. Perhaps I'll find a way to live... if that's even possible.

Sam and Dean enter my hospital room. "Hey, guys," I say, but then I remember. "Oh, right. You can't hear me. Silly me." I laugh pathetically, looking at them as they move into my room.

I want to assure them that I'm holding on── that I'm not leaving them, but I can't say anything, and they annoyingly can't hear me. I'm supposed to be psychic or some crap, why can't I catch their attention?

"This is my fault," Dean mutters, and I want to shout at him for even thinking that. "She was already in pain. I mean, she took a pretty hard hit, and I should've helped. I should've──" Dean pauses, sucking in a sharp breath, and I stare down at the floor. "It shouldn't be her lying here."

"Dean, it's not your fault," Sam tells him.

   "Exactly, it's not!" I call out desperately, but I already know they can't freaking hear me, and it's frustrating.

As a kid, I used to wonder what it would be like to be invisible. I thought it would be exciting to walk around and not be seen. I thought it would be fun to see what everybody gets up to secretly, but now at seventeen, I'm not liking it too much. In fact, I've never wanted to be seen so much in my life.

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