[Her fingers are almost nerveless, it seems, it's hard to even feel the fabric under them, but she clings with all the weak strength that she has left, staring up though she is so blinded by tears that it's hard to see him.
And then the thrust, and this time it is a sharp and terrible pain. She can feel her heart fluttering desperately, feel the knife sticking though it as though to pin it to a card, feel the blood (and it, now, is nearly all that feels warm) begin to soak through her dress again. She screams, or tries to, in some combination of terror and pain, but she does not have the air for it and only chokes on her blood.
Her hand finally loses its grip as the world begins to narrow, to close in, and its ice this time instead of fire, isn't it?
She'd cry, but she doesn't have the breath. She tries to reach his hand, reach the handle of the knife that he stabbed her with, but she doesn't have the strength. But she tries and she tries and she tries-
Until, eventually, she doesn't.
Her dull lifeless eyes are still open, and a last few tears still escape to roll down her dead white cheeks.]
no subject
And then the thrust, and this time it is a sharp and terrible pain. She can feel her heart fluttering desperately, feel the knife sticking though it as though to pin it to a card, feel the blood (and it, now, is nearly all that feels warm) begin to soak through her dress again. She screams, or tries to, in some combination of terror and pain, but she does not have the air for it and only chokes on her blood.
Her hand finally loses its grip as the world begins to narrow, to close in, and its ice this time instead of fire, isn't it?
She'd cry, but she doesn't have the breath. She tries to reach his hand, reach the handle of the knife that he stabbed her with, but she doesn't have the strength. But she tries and she tries and she tries-
Until, eventually, she doesn't.
Her dull lifeless eyes are still open, and a last few tears still escape to roll down her dead white cheeks.]