A nebulous thought
She thought she wasn’t afraid to die. Each year of her life opened and closed with her belief that if her end came she’d accept it with grace. Everyone claims they have no fear until the moments it’s upon you and fear is the only thing you have.
“I’m too young,” she whispered as death stared her in the eye.
Each breath was a struggle, harder to find and even harder to draw into her shriveled lungs. Worse was the IVs, the tubes, the toxins flowing into her bloodstream in a vein effort to keep her grounded to this life. Her oxygen starved mind knew they pushed her closer to her inevitable end.
“It’s time.” The disembodied voice did nothing to soothe her.
“I’m scared.” Fear wrapped like a vice around her throat, stealing what little breath she possessed from her lungs.
The slow blip of her heart on the monitor mocked her. It seemed to follow the rhythm of her thoughts. Not yet… Not yet… Not yet.
“Please.” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye as the world faded. “I’m not ready…”
A clammy hand clenched hers and she wanted to shy away, but her body remained as still as it had been for months. A comfort, her only comfort was the darkness of death. There was no fighting the pull, the numbness, the end. Even in her fear she slipped into it just like those who came before her.