Do you want to live?
The words are spoken, and remind you of a voice that is gurgling. The scent of copper fills the air. You feel a wetness under you, a familiar and -warm- wetness, as a pair of arms touches you, holding you in the hovering abyss of twilight. A whisper reaches out, to your ear, asking you again. Do you want to live?
Second Chances don't come around every day. What will you do with yours?
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest