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She was screaming! Screaming, but her cries were dying before they even broke away from her lungs. And bleeding – there was that too. Yes… she could see it, could feel the metal in her body, just as real as the seeping cold. There used to be pain, but now even that was gone – the last fracture of reality, keeping her close to the world of the living; the last sting connecting her to the life itself - broken. She was truly dying… just a little bit more… so little, it didn’t even matter…
The fortune-teller woke up in her bed, the scream still tearing her throat. In whose life, in whose end, had she thrown her mind?
She took a deep breath to chase the tears and the terror away, before blinking through her tears and the silvery glow of her irises. Now it was easier for her to remember her own name.
“Just a dream,” she reminded herself.
The woman wiped the cold drops of sweat out of her face and touched her abdomen. There wasn’t any blood… or a wound. Her skin was warm, warmer than normal even – burning. Maybe it was that fact, which brought the sudden need for water! Yes, just a glass of water.
She got up slowly, still dazed, and went for the bathroom. Just as sudden as the urge had been, she tripped, stepping on something sharp. Falling, she caught the bar of the lamp, frantically reaching for a support.
The woman felt how it entered her stomach. The pain was there, tearing her mind to pieces. Seeing her own blood, soaking in the clothing, she already knew. She felt the crimson warmth leaving her... leaving behind the irreversible craving for life.
The fortune-teller tried to scream, but her cry died before leaving her lungs. The cold came…