Chapter Text
Dying sucks
It was one of the many things you were hoping to hold off on for as long as you could. And yet here you are, lying in an alleyway covered in multiple stab wounds. You vaguely remember a guy you used to work with talking about the time he got stabbed. He said it burned but in all honesty, you’re just cold.
Maybe it’s the rain pouring down on you, or the fact that the new holes that litter your jacket are letting in the cool air of the night. Normally, you would have been pissed at those vigilantes for fucking up your only jacket. After you won the fight you would have had to drag yourself to your local shady 24-hour gas station and buy a dumb-looking patch or two to fix your mangled coat.
But that didn't happen, you lost that fight and now you are dying in an alley. You won't be dragging yourself to said shady gas station, you won't be buying a patch or shitty gas station snacks that probably took a few years off your life. You won’t be walking back to whatever crummy apartment or abandoned building you called home this month. Instead, you will be bleeding out in an alleyway, cold, alone, and afraid.
You didn’t think about death a lot, (it only reminded you of your mother) but when you did think of your own death it wasn't like this. When you were younger you always wanted to die by your mother's side. You wanted her to pet your hair and whisper sweet things in your ear as you closed your eyes for the last time. As you grew your visions didn't change much, only the faces of whoever was comforting you in your final moments changed.
You didn’t want to die alone. Your Mother died surrounded by people. Her death was rejoiced and she was given no funeral. If that’s what happens to people who don’t die alone you didn’t want to know what would happen to you. You wouldn't be getting a funeral that’s for sure. There’s a chance your body wouldn't even be found either, you were in the poorer and in turn the more dangerous part of town. Most cops and heroes gave up on the people here long ago, the few who still showed up weren't the type of people you’d want to run into though.
What would someone do if they found your body anyway? You didn’t have much to steal, only a cracked old phone that was 100% shattered after you got thrown against that brick wall, an equally old pair of earbuds that only worked when you wrapped them around your phone in a certain way, your dumb spell book that you’ve been holding against your chest like a lifeline, and strawberry flavored chapstick you would never finish.
But none of that matters now.
You aren’t cold anymore. The lower part of your body feels numb but your chest and stomach finally feel warm. Like your mother gave you a hug or wrapped you in a blanket fresh out of the dryer. When she died she didn’t have time to close her eyes. Her lifeless body just kinda…stared up at you. Maybe you should close your eyes. That would be nice.
“And so-Holy shit! Sir look over here!”