Diclaimer: I own nothing!
He knew that he should get off the ground. He knew it for a fact, so why couldn't he bring himself to do it? Oh, yeah, now he remembers. It was just that he was so damn cold and the ground, or whatever he was laying in (his body was to numb to tell) was just so goddamn warm. He didn't know how long he'd been laying there but, in all truth, he just couldn't bring himself to care. He was so tired and it was so warm around him as his body was so cold.
He couldn't see anything. It was all black. He could hear, oh yes, he could hear the pleas and cries of someone (more than one?) person or people above ("Oh god, please, wake up, come one wake up, oh, please, gods no, please wake up… ) him but he couldn't see anything. Were his eyes closed? He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember anything, really. Where he was, what happened, what was going on. Nothing. But, like everything else at the moment, he just didn't care.
("Oh --, please don't do this, -- don't do this, -- you, please -- not y--, not --, god -- no-" ) The voice above him was getting fuzzy, farther away. He wish he knew who was above him, to ask whoever it was what was going on. He might have been dying, maybe, but he didn't know. Had it gotten colder? It had…He couldn't feel the warmth that he was before, like everything around him was fading away. The voice, the warmth, his will to care. It was all going on to fast for him to understand. He wanted it all to slow down. He just wanted it all to stop!
And it did. Just for a moment. For one tiny moment, he was able to tune out the voice, but that was all he needed. Bits and pieces of things (memories?) were floating in and out. Not enough to tell what was going on or what happened, no, but it was enough to tell him it was gaddamn important.
("Don't go. Don't do this to me."
"SHRRRRRREEEEE!"
"Look out!"
"Go away!"
"Why me?"
"I love you-"
"Please, don't do this."
"I hate you!"
"You don't mean that…"
"None of your business!"
"I'm sorry…")
God, why was it so cold? All he wanted was for it not to be so damn cold. Maybe then he could tell what was going on. But, no, it just kept getting colder, and colder, and colder! The voice above him was nearly gone now. Just a few snippets of words floated in and out of hearing. ( "--, --, no, god, -- god, -- not --, -- --, -- up, -- -- --, breath, -- breath, -- --, wake --." ) Breath? Had he stopped? So, he was dying. Huh. Wasn't death to be a traumatic or something? Funny… he couldn't bring himself to care.
