A/N: Well hello everyone, this is my latest fic, Afterlife. I hope everyone enjoys it. Lots of smut for thought of you who love it by the way. Also I will add that I'm not a medical doctor, so if I have misrepresented something, I'm sorry! And please let me know...So yea. Enjoy. :]

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"I'm only twenty-one..." the words escaped her mouth before she could contain her surprise.

They were a lifeless gesture, they fell to the floor, silently crashing against the linoleum. Stating her age was a lost effort, it all was. She looked to the ground. The shattered words disappeared into the white and black speckled floor. Tears replaced the words as she heard muffled speech in the background.

"Treatment can help, it will make the best of your situation...Pulmonary Tuberculosis is treatable...I'm sure you will be fine..." its all she heard him say from across the desk.

Her heart skipped beats, her mouth hung open. The world disintegrated around her. Time stood still as she breathed in an out. The labored breath was a unwelcome reminder of the news that put her into a restless state of shock. Her eyes closed for a split second. The blackness made her feel empty, void of life, as if she was already dead. This unfathomable terror began to slowly filter its way into her brain. She looked up. Her eyes hard and unforgiving.

"No treatment...I refuse." her voice was like a wave of ice. It froze over, making the room a vacuum of happiness.

He stared at her. He was puzzled. He tried to speak to her, but she did not listen. The meeting continued. His voice scratched against her ears. It was sharp and demanding. It hurt her. He pointed out the options on the table. She turned her head, her eyes closed. She felt something well inside her. She didn't understand this feeling. Not anger, or sadness, not fear or regret...it felt just simply empty. She just felt empty. No words would come, no thoughts could form, she was lost in the moment.

He stood, she followed suit. They shook hands, and then she was in her car. The tan leather seats were hot against her skin, but the pain was nonexistent against her senses. She put her head in her hands. The tears were gone now, but the empty feeling remained. She breathed in and out, trying to make her lungs heal...trying to force the disease from her body, but as she tried it felt as though it was only getting worse.

She coughed. her hands went to her mouth, a habitual practice. She pulled them away. Speckles of blood coated her palm. She winced when she saw them. The warm blood felt like pins had been shoved through her appendage, she resented the false pain. The blood was transferred from her hand to her jeans. Then put the key in the ignition. She headed for the surgical store. Her discomfort welled inside her.

The old woman behind the counter looked a half inch from death. The millions of wrinkles on her face looked like leather. The way the woman looked to her was terrifying. The black eyes were old and weathered. They were harsh and judgmental. Her only happiness was knowing that she would never look this way. She quickly got what she needed, gloves, surgical masks, the works. She brought her items to the counter. To her it felt obvious that she was afflicted, but the woman didn't bat and eye as she ran up the items.

"And if I can get you to sign here," she handed her the receipt, and a pen. She signed her name, Gia Vang, she wished she could speak her name, the words were stuck in her failing lungs.

She sprinted from the store, and locked herself in her car. She sat for a moment, hoping that a thought would come into her head, but she was still empty of all thought. She cursed herself as she started the car once more, and pulled out from the lot.

The ride home felt like a second to her. The key turned, the door opened, the light switch flicked to the 'ON' side. The bag dropped from her hand. She undressed, and turned the water to cold. She pulled up the tab to turn the shower on. She stepped in. the water crushed against her skin. Her lungs froze under the water, they ached as they pushed her diseased life out of her. She shuttered under the weight of the frigid water.

Her blonde hair soon became soaked, her body was covered in the icy water. It felt like she would never be warm again, she loved this feeling. If she could harness this feeling she could live her last year in happiness. She relished in the feeling. She pulled back the shower curtain, the cold air rushed against her body. She shivered.

Water sprayed onto the walls, the toilet, into the sink. The sound that the water made while hitting against her bathroom calmed her. She sat in the tub, then slid downinto her back, laying flat. The cold water washed over her body. At this moment her emptiness grew, and then deflated. She felt her emotions be rebooted. Hot salty tears fell from her eyes, the screams of her anger and depression echoed through out her apartment. She, naked in the bathtub, water engulfing her figure. She cried, and screamed, she beat her fist against the cast iron coffin of water.

The life that she had built was being stripped away, she felt it happen to her. As she curled up in the bath tub she felt her broken body. She touched her chest, she could feel a sickening death rattle manifest in side her. She saw drops of blood fall from her mouth and intertwine with the water. It washed away, leaving the tub clean. She willed her body to expel the illness, but it fought against her.

She fell asleep in the tub, the water running. She awoke to the light seeping into her bathroom window. She turned the water off, and let her self lay in the tub. The water rolled of her swollen water logged flesh. The cold pierced its way into her skin, she felt a surge of energy take over her body. But as the cold air turned into warm she felt the energy leave. She remained in the tub. Her body was dry, her spirit was broken.

This is Gia Vang. Every day she looses a little more of her life, and comes closer and closer to her death sentence. In a year she will be dead, and her story will be forgotten to all, all except one.