I can feel my life grinding, breath by breath, to a halt. My chest rattles deeply with the fluid of certain death. A baby crying in the distance could just as easily be on the vid screen across the hall.
Why did I choose to die in this hell hole reeking of piss?
Peace filled me as the anger and human emotion of self-loathing dissipated. The smell of narcissus filled my nostrils.
The oddity of this side of death is bewildering, fear seems to permeate. I know I can do this with some modicum of grace. Persephone has died hundreds of times.
I know what is coming.
For some reason, this feels too real and too surreal. Yet, letting go of this body feels wrong.
The unknown isn’t holding me back. What is keeping me from ending this lifetime?