There are demons in the girl's head. They make her wish she was dead.
Two years ago, the infamous Tony Stark told the world that he was Iron Man and that came with consequences that his precious daughter, Lisa, had to suffer. Despite all odd...
and i'll use you as a warning sign that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind i found ─── amber run
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
malibu, california december 17, 2012 ( six days ago )
When people say that they're sick, you don't naturally assume that they're dying. You assume that they have some nasty cold and you buy them a "Get Well Soon" card on the way home from work. You don't automatically assume that their lives are ending and, if you do, it's because you've had experience with the words, "I'm sick". You know what those words mean. And that's what I meant when I whispered them to myself.
"I'm sick."
I was met back with relative silence and the small daylight that drifted in from my bedroom window.
My thin, trembling form stayed curled up on my bed, staring off at the far wall with tired eyes. I hadn't slept in days; four, to be precise. I wasn't sure if it was just because I couldn't or because I was trying to avoid the nightmares and visions. Perhaps it was both.
"I'm sick," I repeated to the empty space, my voice cracking as I did.
I continued to stare at the wall for a long moment as the computer continued to beep and flash with the results of my latest progression test.
Four more months.
Four more months until I was supposed to die.
My hands kept their near constant shake as I pressed a few keys so that I could record my newest message.
"December 17, 2012, 6:56 a.m.," I took in a desperate, short breath and continued to speak into the microphone, "New update. Vein degeneration and toxic infection has rapidly progressed. After latest test, new timetable reveals four months until my body completely shuts down," I rubbed my tired, naturally dark-outlined eyes, "This comes after last month's progression test estimate of thirteen months. No change in diet, exercise, or activity since that time and now. For reasons unknown, my body has decided to speed up the process by about eight months," my hands dropped to my lap as I still fought the small tremble in my voice, "That being said, I really have no idea when the vein degeneration and toxic infection will take full effect," I pitifully sighed and massaged my temples, "So it all comes down to this: I'm going to die."
Christmas was coming up.
My last Christmas.
My throat ached as I swallowed and kept going, "Tomorrow, next week, two months from now, or four months from now; it doesn't matter. All continuous tests have again resulted in no possible cures. I am officially screwed."
