You know those cheesy, romantic stories that everyone loves? Guess what? This is absolutely NOT one of the stories. In fact, it's quiet the opposite.
And to think, it all started the day I died.
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Tears. The liquid that can be attributed to not only physical pain, but also the pain of the soul.
I always was interested in psychology, but now. Now, I wish I hadn't payed a lot of attention, how else would I have tricked myself into a delusion that I would survive this night.
Words are only sounds humans make to convey emotion. Right now my cries where calling in desperation.
"Help! Help me! It-it hurts! M-my chest! I-it's killing me!" I rasped as tears of agony rolled down my cheeks and dripped onto the concrete. My hand was gripping the source of my pain, a hole through my stomach that gushed blood with every beat of my slowing heart.
My vision was blurring and I sent a prayer to my God, asking him for forgiveness so that I may join him in heaven. I looked up towards the darkening sky, overcrowded with storm clouds.
As the last piece of blue vanished I looked back towards the end of the street and saw what seemed to be a figure dressed in a white tunic and had what looked to be larger pieces of white fabric sticking out of their back.
I blinked and they were gone. I closed my eyes as the pain spiked once again. That is when my heart stopped.
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