It was a hell of a way to die. Pretty impressive, dare I say.
I felt my stomach twist as the rush of adrenaline surged through my body one final time, preparing me for the final fall. Preparing me for my death.
My vision is getting blurrier by the second. I’m short of breath. Tiny beads of sweat started to prickle on my forehead. Every muscle on my body is burning like a flame. I hear Samuel groan in pain beside me, but I couldn’t move an inch.
They say when you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. But that’s not what happened to me. The only thing I was thinking of is them, and everything that had happened in the last three weeks.
I’d say I’ve finally accomplished a few things in my tiny, puny little life.
What was the best accomplishment?
Being friends with these two.
And I forgot to tell them to write on my grave:
Marigold Abbot (2002-2019)
‘She died doing what she loved, swearing profusely.’
Cause that’s exactly what I did.
It was never my intention to meet them. It was never my intention to agree to such an adventure.
But damn it, it was a hell of a choice.
These last three weeks were... Immaculate.
This is it. This is how I’m going to die.
And I’m glad I’m going to end up dying with my last memory being Trace and Sam.
But I hope my potty mouth wouldn’t annoy Satan as much when I arrive in hell. I don’t want him to hate me. Need a roomie.
Memories are flashing right in front of my eyes... My mind is recalling everything, running through my mind like a very long-life tape. And it went back to the mere beginning.
The beginning of the adventure that led me to my death.
It all started with my name.