I get sicker by the day. My body beginning to waste away. I feel it deep in the pit of my stomach but I know it all began to unwind in my mind. It is not an ailment of the body but of the soul and it rots away the sanity of mind. Coming in crippling waves of pain, it overwhelms you originating in your core and beginning to spread rapidly through your veins and soon you're on all fours. Pale and green, your body convulsing with a cold sweat on your brow. You heave to rid your stomach of its poisonous contents but all that escapes you is bile. The sickness is in its advanced staged. Only revealing itself identifiable when it was already too late. It has eaten away at your organs leaving your heart as the last one standing. A witness to the tragedy, one to see all the others fail. Pumping furiously it refuses to give up, making up for the loss of blood determine to remain the lone survivor. It is painfully unaware that the disease has already spread, eating away through its walls, but its desperation still fights struggling on. You've slumped down the wall, cheek to the cold floor gasping for air. Death rattles in the back of your throat. A chill overcomes you, crawling up your legs and arms. You begin to see spots of black, like a roll of ruined film. And the only sound that escapes your lips is a name. A whisper that lingers on your lips for a few delicate moments and then fades with that final beat.
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