He hears what he hears, and most often it stings, but not long enough or strong enough to stop him from inserting the point of the needle at a 45-degree angle into his vein, bevel up.
She stands idly by forgetting what life was like before this, struggling to remember what thoughts filled her head before she was consumed with trying to save someone who was already gone.
He’s claustrophobic. He wants to scream, trapped inside of this body that is killing him. And all the while as he slips farther and farther under a blanket of eternal darkness, she insists that this time is different. This one time, all of the love, the tears, the sleepless nights and nightmares, the internal suffering, it will all be worth it.
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