Uh here guys is obviously another one of my random oneshots... so yeah I was cleaning my room (sort of) and found this written on a couple scraps of paper, but its pretty dark and stuff I don't know I think that its about death but I'm not actually sure. But yeah its short and I don't remember writing it... but yeah enjoy... hopefully.

Cold Hands

I couldn't really focus on anything. The only thing I could see were blurry shapes. Shapes that I just couldn't quite make out. The voices were garbled. The only two things I could focus on were the unbearable pain in my head and the cold hand forever attached to mine.

I don't know how long I was like this. There was no day, night, time or date in this haze. Nothing except pain and that cold hand in mine.

I knew there was a time, a time that there was something else. A time there was something more. A life with no pain. A life with no cold hands. A life that is no more a life. A life that no longer exists in this world. A life that I long for.

I remember a friend from this life. Young, red haired. Her face as blurred as the world around me. Arguments, anger. But I didn't know who was arguing nor who directed the anger. I didn't know whom the anger was directed to.

I remember running. A car crash. Lights, blood, bitter and sweet. Cold hands, warm eyes. Life and death. But what do they mean? What am I, dead or alive?

Does death hurt this bad. Does death hurt this long? Did death have cold hands? Does death take this long to die?

Bright lights, voices telling me to go, voices telling me to hold on. But to what? Why? For how long? The light is too bright I cannot reach it. The cold hands are too strong I cannot break free.

Laughing talking, strange men previously unknown. Their faces a blur. They say they will make it better. That the light will dim. That we will live in the night. Pain cannot reach us here.

They are wrong. Cold hands. Warm mouth. Against my hand, my cheek, my forehead. Pain surging through me. Screams choked in my throat, my life slips through my fingers. My screams are unheard. My blood is warm. The hand is cold.

I still scream. The light is too bright. There are sharp beeps cutting through the blurred world around me.

There are shocks. The world gets cleaner. I see blue outfits, masks, rubber gloves. The haze comes back. The light wants me to come nearer.

There are no cold hands to hold me back I see more of the outside world. As the world and all in it fades away.

The light is closer now. The pain is lessened. There are voices telling me to fight. There is the light brightening. Easing my pain increasing my haze. The cold hand lets go. I have no pain, no life, no death.

The voices tell me to fight. The beeping becomes one solid sound. One long screech. The cold hands grab hold and pull me away. But I do not listen. But I do not fight.

The cold hands let go one last time, caressing my face as they faded away like the rest of the world. Like the other life. Like the life with no pain. Like the life with no cold hands.

Before the bright, blinding light devours me there is one more break in the haze. Enough to hear words layered in remorse.

Time of death 12:53 a.m.

I feel I should let the cold hands pull me back now. Pull me out of this blinding light. Save me from this. But it is too late. But they are gone. My light goes black. There is no life, there is no death. No light, no dark, no warmth, no cold.


Yeah thanks for reading it... I hoped that you arn't to creeped out by this... but yeah review please!