You know what you did

Chapter 26: Say the magic word

The answer to my previous question: a person can die as many times as satan himself allows. At this point in hell, I'm completely dried out. I have absolutely no tears left. Although, it honestly hurts more when I don't cry. All of me hurts as Wade dies over and over and over. I can't seem to get a break, and I don't think I ever will.
Wade's deaths don't often change, but when they do, it's more gruesome than the last. Sometimes the scenario even changes, just so I end up more emotional and broken at the end of it.

Did I mention everything hurts?
I believe so.
Everything fucking hurts.
No shit Sherlock.
What did I do to deserve this?
I don't know..maybe killed a shitload of people?
Oh yeah.
Yeah.
...but like, was it really that bad?
I'm done with you.

I open my eyes to probably the thousandth scenario. I can only imagine what awaits this time. It's been a while since the last scenario change, it usually happen after a couple dozen time so I should be due for a new one right about now.
I look around at my surroundings, trying to place where I am this time. I'm in the middle of Central Park, there seems to be a large crowd gathering at a small stage in the middle; probably a local concert. I seem to be in my body suit, leaving me to wonder what could possibly happen in this episode of 'Groundhog Day: hellish ripoff.'
I see Wade, dressed as Deadpool, exit from the crowd of people and storm his way towards me. I can't see his facial expression without his mask on, but just the way he's walking gives off that he's either frustrated or mad. Or possibly both.

Is it bad that despite this situation of me being in hell, I'm finding him walking like that to be extremely, extremely attractive?
...no.

As he approaches me I notice a small knife in his left hand. I don't move from my spot, even when I see his fist clenching around the hilt of the blade even harder than before. I don't move when he leans in to hug me either, not even to hug him back. Because I know what's happening. The scenario is different, which means everything and anything can be different. Including who dies at the end of said scenario. Like me, for example.
I only let out a low grunt when the blade pierces throw my back, digging right into my spinal cord. My entire body goes limp at the contact, nothing inside me functioning properly at this point. My vision begins to fade when I feel my body being dragged backwards. I don't feel anyone's hands on me, so I don't know how I'm moving, but at this point I'm not even going to question things. This is Limbo, nothing normal happens here.
Suddenly the dragging feeling wraps itself around my body, squeezing me like an enormous python. I feel like I'm fly8ng now, centrifugal force pushing my entire body into the fetal position in survival mode.

Haha, survival mode...we're already dead.
noT THe TiMe

I feel my body slam into something, something extremely hard. If I wasn't already dead, I'd say I would have died from the impact. As for the sound the rang out when I landed, it rang through the air like a gunshot. I'm pretty sure people in the living world could here it. Wade would probably be making some sick joke about the 'banging' noise.
The force hits me again, this time, forward; in my chest. Except it's only pulling my chest.
Suddenly I'm awake. My eyes open and burning, my upper body lifting me up into a sitting position. My breathing is ragged and causing my lungs to burn, the bright lights from my underexposed eyes makes me want to sneeze.

I start into a coughing fit, my entire body racking with soreness, cold, and my brain feeling raw. Eventually my eyes grow accustomed to the light around me, and I'm met with non other than the man of my past one thousand nightmares.
Wade Wilson.

I try to speak but there's no moisture inside me, causing me to simply go into another coughing fit. A glass of water is placed to my lips within seconds of my coughs, cool, smooth liquid runs down my throat with the contact of the glass to my dry lips. Soon I'm able to croak out a single word.

"Wade?" I try my best to voice my disbelief, especially since I can't exactly start interrogating him. I feel like I'm still trapped in my personal hell. There's no way this can be real. This must be some sort of development with my torture, instead of watching Wade die now, satan has him kill me himself.

Hell is just absolutely wonderful.
Fan-freaking-tastic.

"Hey Alex." His voice. He's never sounded like this in my past scenarios. Could this be...could this be real? I can only reply with my burning eyes as look into Wades. "How are you?" His voice is soft and sincere, making me want to crawl into his arms for safety. But this isn't real. I'm going to get stabbed soon, or Wade will get stabbed soon. Either way, someone is getting stabbed. "It actually worked.." Wade's voice brings me back from my betraying thoughts. What exactly 'worked'?
I set down my glass of water onto the table I'm currently laying on. That's when I finally notice the exact setting I 'm in.
I'm currently stretched out on a cold table, many lights pointing in my direction, along with a blanket laying at the bottom of where my feet lay at the end of the table. I try to clear my throat a dozen times before finally attempting more words.

"What..you..mean?" My voice cracks and croaks like a pubescent teenage boy. Wade wraps my entire body into his arms, squishing me into his chest for a ginormous bear hug.
"It worked!" I notice a woman in dark clothing standing in the corner of the room as I take the opportunity to look of Wade's shoulder. Her face is hidden behind a hood so I cannot see who is beneath it.
I also take notice of a cloth bag on a smaller table to Wade's left side. The bag seems to be soaked in blood and...throbbing? Beating?
"I brought you back to life!"

Wait, what the fuck?!

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Hahaha, lets just pretend that it wasn't months that I haven't updated this and just assume I totally updating weeks ago, you guys just didn't see it.

Oh well, at least I still posted.
Please enjoy!