The Adventures of Gabriel Celtic

The Adventures of Gabriel Celtic

Friday, April 4, 2014

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She can hear her heartbeat… she is still alive.
She wills herself to take a breath.
She is only eighteen. She thinks this to herself as she stares at the ceiling. Her luxurious blonde hair is surrounding her head like a halo as her firm breasts move up and down with every strained breath. If it wasn’t for the deep red patch on her shirt, one might find her current disposition very captivating.
She can hear the blood dripping off of her elbow into the puddle beneath it. She thinks about that for a few moments as if it is happening to someone else.
Remembering to take another breath, she realizes that it doesn’t hurt quite as much to breathe. She is not sure whether to take that as a good sign.
She thinks about what went wrong, and then thinks about how very rational a thought that was for this moment. She had always been very rational in her thinking.
It would seem that had not turned out to be such a good thing.
She forces herself to take another breath.
It had been a mistake to back out…she could see that now. She should have stuck to the deal.
She again thinks about how very rational she had been when she made the decision.
Thinking about the dripping, she removes her hand from the hole below her ribs and reaches down to the floor. Bringing her hand back up, she can see the deep red blood pooled on the tips of her fingers.
She remembers to breathe.
As she gazes at her hand, her rational brain comes up with a sudden thought.
She should warn somebody.
Reaching for the wall beside her, she runs her fingers down the wall. Her hand drops once more into the puddle, and she immediately brings it back up to make another line.
She wonders why her task is so hard, then remembers to take another breath before dropping her hand once again.
Her energy is waning as she nears the end, but she is determined to finish the task. When her willpower finally leaves her however, she stares at the incomplete warning with regret.
She realizes that she can’t hear her heart any more, her time is running short. With every last ounce of effort she has, she raises her hand one more time. All she can manage this time however is to slap her hand weakly against the wall before it falls once more to the floor.
She has forgotten to breathe.
The eyes linger, but they no longer see as a single tear winds its way down her cheek.

Copyright 2014 J.T. Lewis

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