#colour ay

『❆』Mickey Milkovich

He HURT all over the place. He could feel the space where the KNIFE had entered his stomach. It is PULSING and THROBBING making Christian cry out in AGONY. The street fighting was always dirty, but it had never gone this far. His face was beaten in, blood caked under every free inch of his body. Under his fingernails, in his hair, within every crevice available. It had soaked his clothing, his body starting to go numb. This was it. He knew this was the end for him and all he could think about was everything that he hadn’t done. He tries to push himself upright, but his arms quiver underneath of him sending him back into the pavement. He barely feels the impact, using the last of his energy to roll onto his back, hand pressed over the wound on his stomach. He was starting to feel dizzy. It was too late-nothing of this world would save him now. His green eyes blinked closed on the black and white world that he lived in. he said goodbye to the grey that he lived him. He wouldn’t miss the monotone-wouldn’t let himself wish that before he died he at least got to see colour.