Author's Note: Well this was a piece of total randomness that somehow ended up typed up, lol. I blame the withdrawel since I've had NO INTERNET! Shocking eh? Yes...I've decended into more madness and insanity...yay! Sparky rules!
The pain was unbearable.
Like viscous oil it clung to her skin, every pore covered and smothered underneath a cloud of pain that refused to abate even for an instant. Like fingers, it clawed at her, invisible marks only given away by the ache it left, and the scream that tore up from her throat.
Grey tainted her vision.
She almost wished for the dark to take her, to extinguish the light that she clung to with all the remaining strength she possessed. Even as the strength diminished she fought it, her breaths coming in short gasps and wheezes, coughing up crimson when the effort became too much.
Her skin was on fire now, even as the rose colour of life dulled, becoming pale, almost translucent under the light. It felt like fire ants were devouring her from within and she ached to scratch them out; if only she had the energy.
Blinking repeatedly, she tried to focus on her surroundings, but hardly anything registered. All she could see was outlines, like a faded watercolour that had been left in the sun. Colours washed together, swirling in and around, the blur of her eyes aiding the illusion. Her eyes fluttered shut, then snapped open again as her body convulsed, her muscles cramping up painfully.
She heard a sound then, but it sounded vague and distant, as if coming from above water. Was she drowning? The sound repeated, and she opened her eyes, despite the energy it cost her. It was then she realised that something was on her shoulders. They tingled from a touch, but she couldn't register what it was so she glanced in that direction, seeing fingers and hands and wrists, that weren't her own.
They touched her face then, gently gripping her chin and forcing her to face deep pools of green. The touch burnt and she struggled against it, but it left her spent and she became lifeless again, still staring into the green.
The green had a face she recognised; hair as black as the night and lips that mouthed something she should understand, a distant echoing accompanying the movement. Some of it broke through.
"Hold on Lizabeth," it said. The words dreamlike, smooth surreal. She drowned then, in a world of grey.