I could not see. My eyes were covered in soot. A thick layer of it resting on my corneas. I would never see again. But maybe...I wouldn't need to.
My throat must have also been covered in soot. No matter how much I tried to cough only blood would come. What a sad way to die.
Smoke inhalation and Tuberculosis.
My Mother was sitting with me. I could smell her perfume. Elizabeth Arden.
'You'll be fine, I-'
'Don't promise me anything.' I whispered, cutting her off.
'Please...I'm going to...don't get your hopes...up.' I gasped.
Her perfume wafted towards me as she shook her head.
'You...knew...I would have anyway...but...promise...you'll look after...V...ronica...' It was getting harder to speak and I knew...I would die soon.
She nodded. But I knew there was no reason, my twin and I shared TB. She would die a few weeks or months later. It saddened me. But we both knew we were going to die, we'd discussed it. Every night.
There was a sob and she said, 'I love you Jodie.'
'I love...you...too and Ver...onica.'
And then somehow I knew, I would breath my last breath. I didn't waste it.
And breathing in, I said, 'Good' and out, 'Bye'. And I was gone.
And as the sobs filled the room and the monotonous beep started I left.
And I floated. Towards the...sink? Through the drain and I existed, no more.