Rain To Death

After it was over, his senses came back to him.

      The sensation of the cold, sharp blade invading his chest sent him into a state of motionlessness, crashing onto the sidewalk, wet with rain. Now that the knife was removed, his body allowed him his consciousness. It seemed like a slow progress. First, his sense of touch returned. He felt the cold raindrops pelting his skin, soaking his clothes and rinsing the blood from his wound. His wound jumped and made him wince as the rain rinsed it, but it soon gave him cold and soothing relief. He felt the warmth of his blood mix with the cold of the rain under his fingertips as it flowed down the sidewalk. Next came his smell. The aroma of mud and blood mixed into a evocative perfume he secretly enjoyed. Then, his hearing returned. Slowly, the sound of the pelting rain invaded his ears, but was complimented by the light rumbling of the thunder up ahead. He concentrated on the sound of his shallow breathing and his heartbeat; how every beat seemed to speed up and slow down simultaneously, and how soft and quiet his breath was. Suddenly, he heard a feminine chuckle, which caused him to open his eyes. Immediately, the rain pelted his eyes, but a couple blinks cleared his vision. At first, he didn't see anything but the front of his torso other than the rain and the sidewalk, but as he turned his head to the left, he saw black high heels. He looked up and saw her, his killer. She wore nothing but a long, black raincoat and high heels, still holding the bloody knife in her hands. Her wet, brown hair mostly covered her face, but her grey eyes and red lips showed through. She had a grim smile on her face as she peered upon on him, menacingly. Her eyes widened as she brought the knife to her lips and licked the blood off. He shivered. Without a moment's hesitation, she turned away and quickly fled the scene, disappearing into the concrete. He turned his head towards the sky and sighed with relief, but now, he was doomed.
The pain in his chest grew more intense with every heartbeat, and he didn't know where he was. He slowly moved his hand to his pocket to search for his phone, wincing with pain. His pocket was empty. He held his breath, now knowing that he had no way of contacting for help. He began to panic, jerking his head left to right, searching for someone to help him. No one. He began to scream for help, pleading, hoping someone would hear him. Nothing. He sank his head hard on the sidewalk and cried. Then, he noticed his heart was racing and his breathing was swallow and painful; he had to calm down. The circumstance of the situation wasn't ideal, but perhaps he could prolong his existence if he just stays calm. Enduring the agony, he took a long deep breath, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest, the drowning sensation in his lungs, the gentle message of the rain, the cold and wet of the sidewalk, the warm of his blood on his skin. Tranquility.
As moments went by, his ability to breath was becoming more difficult. He tried to grip to sidewalk for some sort of comfort, but there was nothing grab. He balled his hand into a fist and tried to remain calm. He couldn't think of anything besides the impending thought of death; that soon his heart would stop, his lungs would fill with blood, and he would die. He rested his head on his arm, trying to think about something less dismal.

He opened his eyes toward the sky and wondered if there was a god.

     He looked back on his life; all the decisions and mistakes him made and wondered if everyone in his life could, or would forgive him. He thought about his mom and how she would handle the death of him. How his dad would grieve for him, but never shed a tear until he was alone. And how he, himself would never be able to live with the fact that he never accomplished his dreams. All that time wasted, for nothing. He closed his eyes and laughed, allowing tears to be washed away from his eyes. He opened his eyes again and began to see faint rainbows outlining everything around him. A sudden warmth filled his mouth in gush. He jerked forward, coughing blood onto the ground. He wiped his mouth and look at the red on his fingers. All the time spent on recalling his life distracted him from his impending doom, but it didn't bother him. Everything to him now seemed so lovely. The pain in his heart was gone, he didn't feel a need to breathe, the world around him felt pleasantly chill, and the rainbows made everything look beautiful. He lifted his arm and chased after the rainbows as his vision tunneled. Shortly after, he blacked out.
He suddenly felt a lifting sensation, like he was being pulled from his body and floating around it. His senses slowly started to fade from him; his feeling was replaced with utter coldness, his hearing turned to silences, his smell evaded him, his thoughts slept. He realized that he was slipping away into the tranquil cradle of death, and slowly accepted his fate with one final, shallow, slow breath.

Suddenly, he jerked to the sound of faint heard voices around him. He couldn't make out the exact words, but they sounded frantic. He felt a soft, warm hand on his wound, thrusting his chest in as another pair of hands rested his head on their lap. He had no idea what was going on, but he has much too disoriented to care. He couldn’t feel the pain yet. He just enjoyed the one source of warmth under him; a contrast of comfort in his voyage into death.