Setting: Danny lies delirious in his hospital bed after the accident.
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I feel so free. Somehow I know that I have never felt this way before, although I cannot pinpoint how I am arriving at this revelation. I can thus only come to one conclusion.
I am dying.
Someone else must share this belief, for now I can hear them arguing with me.
�Dammit Daniel Santos. You will not die. Not now.�
Easy for her to say.
Briefly I wonder who she is, but decide whoever the hell she is, she can get out of my head.
I want to get back to enjoying my freedom. At this moment death for freedom seems a fair trade.
�I am not going to let you go. Do you hear me?!!�
How can I not hear you!!! You are only screaming in my ear.
I wish I could scream back. I know I am good at that. Don�t ask me how, I just know. However, right now that gift seems to have left me.
Damn.
�Damn you�
This is getting to be too much. Can�t I even have my own free thoughts without anyone stealing them? It�s not fair.
�It�s not fair.�
No, Life�s not fair!!! I wanted to shout back. What idiot thinks that? We will just forget that I did.
This woman is really getting on my nerves.
All I want is death and freedom, in that order.
Finally.
Finally I can be free.
�You will never be free of me�
Just as I am about to argue with �the voice� it comes to me. The revelation. I guess all dying people get one, its only fair. (I ignore my previous argument)
I don�t want to be free of her.
Forget freedom, it�s time to fight.
Time to fight to see her�
To touch her�
To argue with her.
Somehow I know I will have no problem with the last one.
I fight to open my eyes as well.
I discover that when I fight, I fight to win.
I open my eyes and see her- my beautiful, blond, opinionated angel.
�Oh thank god, you are awake,� she whispers as she reaches forward to touch my forehead.
I change my mind. Anyone whose touches make me feels like this is no angel.
� I love you Danny�
It crosses my mind that I have no idea who Danny is.
It also crosses my mind that I don�t care.
I will be whoever and whatever she wants me to me, as long as she promises to touch me again.
�Good morning beautiful,� I hear myself say.
Now where did that come from?
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