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Beep. Beep. Beep.

You lie on the gurney. Weak, and stale, like everything else in the hospital. The horrid stench of medicine and sick patients contaminates the air, rushing through your nostrils as you breathe, ever so slightly.

WeakAO

Your mouth froths as you run your tongue against your pair of dry, cracked lips. Even in doing this simple task, you are unsure of your success. Your body is so numb; so weak, that you can hardly feel a thing. You can't even tell what the temperature is. Your vision; still cloudy, can only just make out a bottle of water on the table next to your gurney. You try to reach for it, but your body is much too weak. You can't even raise your arm from the bed. In your frustration, you try to call out for a doctor. Pointless; the only sound that resonates from your voice box is a quiet grumble.

You don't even know how long you've been out for. Where are your family and friends? Where are the doctors? After the ordeal that put you here you should have had at least a few people to greet you upon waking up.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You can hear that sound from a room down the hall. Somebody is dead. The sound of that failing heartbeat monitor is something you know all too well. As a matter of fact, it's the last thing you remember before waking up.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You hear it again, but this time it's not from the same room. It is closer. Probably the room next to yours, but you don't know for sure.

You can't help but feel a little paranoid at all of this. Perhaps even a small sense of dread. Maybe that beeping will be coming from you next?

Suddenly, your fears are lulled when you see a doctor approach your gurney. But the longer he stares at you, the more the sense of paranoia and dread start to build up again. As the doctor reaches towards your IV; you notice a small item in their hand.

A needle.

You try to move, but you are just too weak.

You try to call out, but you are just too weak.

The doctor inserts the needle into your IV, and pumps its contents into the tube.

It's air.

But instead of the bubbles rising to the top of the top, they pummel down, closer and closer to your skin as you try so hard, so desperately to pull yourself free.

But you are just, too, weak.

Eventually the bubbles will enter you veins and pump their way into your heart, killing you instantly.

You could spend these last moments wondering why this man killed you. Wonder what his motive was; what his ultimate goal was. Was it a mercy? Was it evil?

But that's not important.

The only questions you ask yourself are the ones that matter. Could this really be the end? What will happen after you die? What of your family and friends who love you dearly? What about everything you aspired for; everything else you wanted to do before this moment came for you?

How about everything you'll never do now that it has finally come?

You don't have a lot of time to think before your senses fade away one last time. You feel the bubbles clench inside your heart and absolutely everything you were and ever would have been fades into nothing.

Beep. Beep. Beep.



Written by Anarchic Operations
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