Drip. Drip.
Hot liquid kept falling from his face down to the ground. The wound on his forehead was worse than he had thought.
He wheezed. Man, even breathing was difficult.
He coughed and spat out blood.
This isn't good. Not good at all.
He was losing blood. Way too much blood.
Moreover, all this running had reopened the injury on his torso. A part of his shirt has already been dyed red.
Will I...die? After all that has happened... will I just-
His knees gave out under him and he fell forward.
Is this...the end?
Hands shaking, he crawled. Dragging himself onward with his bare hands.
Inch by inch. There is still a chance.
Then he heard it.
The soft voice of the little girl.
Singing out:
I will find the lost
I will find the hurt
And I will set them free~
View User's Journal
Thoughts.
Blah.
 |
