On Death's Door

His chest feels heavy, breathing shallow as if someone placed several massive weights on his chest. His body isn't responding, everything feels heavy and he can't even lift a single finger from the ground. Gravity holds him in its clutch, not willing to let go as it pulls him further against the ground and renders his body useless in its vice grip.

It hurts

There is a burn. An agonizing burn that's spreading further into his body, a scalding sensation shooting through his veins at a rapid speed before erupting from his chest. The burn intensifies; multiplies as it leaves him choking on air. Both his chest and back feel like it's on fire, an all devastating fire that's melting his body along with his insides.

Help me

His lungs burn and feel like they aren't even there as his breath comes in trivial pants that leave him more breathless than anything else. The agonizing burn, that damned melting fire that's ripping him apart. It's too much, too painful. He just wants to die, close his unopened eyes and stop breathing, to make his heart stop beating and for his blood to run cold.

It burns

He can't even remember what happened, what made his body feel like it's thrown into a volcano and the volcanic storm of magma drags him down to his demise. The volcanic rage that leaves nothing behind but pain.

Make it stop

Sweat gathers on his face, sliding down and wetting his clothes as he is unable to do anything more than wheeze and moan in pain. The burning doesn't let up, taking with its never ending fire more and more of his precious organs, taking everything he needs in order to live.

He wants to thrash around; get up and run, jump into the sea. Anything that would make this pain stop! But it doesn't happen, he is still laying down, his body not corresponding and the burn takes more tedious turns with every passing minute.

I'm going to die

His lungs don't seem to work, gasping futile for air that never reach the place where he needs it. His lungs are on fire, scalding the air as it burns his windpipe along with his mouth. He's on fire, inside and out. Nothing he can do about it but to accept his fate as his consciousness starts to slip.

A darkening abyss reaching out from beneath him and pulling him in, it's cold and bony hands tugging him back. Back to where?

Death

NO! No! Nononononononononononono

His chanting growing louder with the second, he doesn't want to die, not yet. There's things he never did and people he needs to watch over. He can't die, he needs to live!

"But wasn't your life a sin?"

"Who said that?" His voice echoes through the emptiness of his mind, finding himself in a never ending room of complete darkness. There was a voice there that was not his own, he's certain of that.

"Wasn't your birth something that never should have happened?"

The ghastly voice continues, the vocalization resounding from every part of his subconsciousness. Surrounding him and trapping him into place.

"Who are you?"

"If it weren't for you, your mother would still be alive."

His mother, the woman who gave birth to him and the only reason she's death is because he killed her. His existence alone was reason enough to kill his own mother. He's a monster, he's a devil, he's a...