Quoted By:
>It seemed almost impossible.
>How could he be?
>And how did HE die...
>...before YOU did?
>He was still able to live his own life relatively freely... it only seemed right he should've lived longer too.
>Yet you seem to be punished again to lose someone else, one of the few people your wretched heart could dare to call close to you, despite all your tense history.
>You stare at the wall.
>And all you can think about is your life. You can almost see it, like a projector on the wall.
>Childhood.
>Adolescence.
>Adulthood.
>Maturity.
>Every single joy.
>Every single pain.
>Every single bit of suffering and pleasure in your life.
>It all beams back and forth in your head.
>You wonder why. But you know the reason.
>You're all alone, now. There's no one left willing to vouch for you.
>You try not to think about it.
>The despairing sensation.
>Your heart starts beating faster. Eyes throbbing. Breath quickening.
>You fumble your hand in your tailored suit's pockets, quickly and clumsily trying to grasp your hand around a bottle of who-knows-what-by-now to ease this feeling.
>But it gets worse by each second.
>You get the bottle and struggle to open it. After much effort, you do.
>But by then... it's too late.
>Before you know it, you're on the floor. Eyes wide. Lips slightly parted. Pills to your side.
>You think you'll get up at any second now.
>But that doesn't seem to be happening.
>All that's happening is replaying those memories while your body seems to ignore the pain you're obviously in.
>Staring at the wall.
>Projecting everything.
>Remembering everything.
>Eventually, it all slows down.
>One vision seems to enter your draining brain in this final minute.
>And, unconsciously, you mutter your last words.
>"Mama..."
