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?
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