A Thousand Shards, A Thousand Memories

Someone screams my name. My hands are covered in blood and dirt, my lungs are filled with water. I feel trapped, and I can feel myself slip away.

They say that death is permanent, and once you die, it's all over. I can remember if I died or if I dreamed that I did. Words and pictures blur in my mind, trying to create a scene, maybe a memory, or maybe something more.

I just know one thing.

If I slip away now, he won't let me go.