you will surely shatter
The blood smelled sweet. Claire had once been told in her youth that death smelled different to each person, that scent was the memory which dug itself deepest into the recesses of anyone's mind and lodged itself firmly there, only to appear again in a person's last days. And if this was what she smelled in her last moments, vanilla hanging lightly in the air, she couldn't complain. There was a warmth trickling down the length of an arm, and her head pounded with alarming frequency. Thud, thud, thud. Pinpricks pressed against the lengths of her nerves until they met each end, digging ferociously, but Claire welcomed the pain. Passing in one's sleep had never held any romanticism to her. This was better.
This reminded her that she had been alive, once.
But then her chest squeezed tight, lungs breathing fresh as Claire gasped for breath, a long draw that seemed to have no end. Where her vision had been blurry before, now all the details were returning, down to each speck of dirt on the floor of the school hallway. Somewhere in the distance, a clock counted down the seconds, but Claire's body traveled backward, the sticky sensation of blood still holding her fingers together as she sat up.
"Get out of bed, Claire, or you'll be late," a deep voice reprimanded in the background, easing into a chuckle, one which made her blood run cold.
This reminded her that she had been alive, once.
But then her chest squeezed tight, lungs breathing fresh as Claire gasped for breath, a long draw that seemed to have no end. Where her vision had been blurry before, now all the details were returning, down to each speck of dirt on the floor of the school hallway. Somewhere in the distance, a clock counted down the seconds, but Claire's body traveled backward, the sticky sensation of blood still holding her fingers together as she sat up.
"Get out of bed, Claire, or you'll be late," a deep voice reprimanded in the background, easing into a chuckle, one which made her blood run cold.