Years Ago He Perished

//prologue

If Will was to explain what happened in the moment in colours, it would be a rainbow of grey. Someone was scraping on his lungs until he wished he had none. The swerve and screech of tires was the last thing he heard. Every rugged breath he took hurt him, until his pained expression was a book; all he wished for was breathlessness. 

His last thought was persistent. Whose hand was it that clutched at his? Whose nails were those that scraped on the surface of his hand? The light-headed feeling overwhelmed him. Black spots danced in front of his eyes. A piercing scream reverberated through the vehicle. He wondered why his jaws hurt. He couldn't for too long; the pain consumed him. When they found him there, the corners of his chapped lips would be moulded in peaceful arc.