Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop
As his breaths became shorter he suddenly found himself wanting to live. He clenched the ground as if it were some life-saving haven. There was some twisted irony in the whole situation because he spent the last few years of his life craving deaths sweet embrace. He cursed himself for feeling so hopeless.
His eyes closed though his mind begged for them to stay open. Suddenly he felt a grip around his neck. He turned to open his eyes but saw only a blurry figure.
"So deaths angel has come to take me to the underworld," he thought, until the figure straddled him and seemed to move in closer. He could hear voracious breathing that sounded almost beast-like. The breaths crept closer and closer. He instinctively grabbed the figure's arm but then recoiled, at that point not caring about what might happen. He could now here the breathing, the warm air approaching his face. The location of the breaths suddenly shifted to his neck, they became warmer and faster. He felt the figure's hair caressing his face. The warm breaths getting even closer to his neck gave him chills. Then he began to feel something sharp linger on his neck, something hard and pointy like the fangs of a beast. Perhaps a wild dog waiting to devour his corpse. But then he felt a hand wrap gingerly around his neck. The fangs still lingered as well threatening to draw what blood he hadn't already lost from his injury. He felt something wet glide along his pulse point. It had t be the tongue of a beast. He felt the teeth once again but this time they pierced his flesh. The pain caused a surge of adrenaline throughout his body, but he refrained from groaning. He could feel his own blood running down his neck and then a tongue ravenously licking it clean. The fangs sank in once again, draining his blood. He began to feel weak and knew death was approaching.
Suddenly he felt his hair being stroked. He knew then that it wasn't a beast, but his consciousness slipped away.
When he awoke again, he found himself in a dingy room, lying in a rather uncomfortable bed. Oddly he felt no pain. He touched his head where he had been shot, no blood nor sign of a wound. Had it all been a dream?
