As I Lay Dying Novels & Stories

He inserted his dick into me and began to move fast and rough movements. When he did what he wanted, he left me motionless on the floor. "Hope you die slowly and painfully, bitch." he said and spat at me. The only thing I could see was that his partner Michael was standing up. Apparently the wound was only superficial. "Tom .." "Come on, Mike, let's get out of here. This bitch is dead anyway," he looked at me, knowing I was on the verge of death. They left me to die alone and helpless in that shack. He killed my husband in front of me. I stood there for hours, praying to die.

I muttered trying hard to complete my statement but i couldn't. My throat felt hooked and my mouth..numb. I guess that's the limit...there is nothing i can say or do anymore. I gasp.. I smiled as i felt life slipped away from me finally. My eyes shut..and i knew that was the end. "Daisy!" I faintly heard them scream before i could hear nothing no more. Stapsy ❣️ 🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭 . . . . To be continued

I don’t know why, but something is rotten in my gut and it’s never wrong. We storm through the building, Roddy’s being the last room at the end of the long ass hallway. The door is locked and Grouch sticks his ear to it, then backs up and kicks it open. The immediate stench of death I know all too well hits my nose and I can’t believe nobody has noticed it. It’s at least fifteen doors from mine. Missile and Grouch storm in, but I can already see the lifeless body of Ryan “Roddy” Grimes on the bed. I step in the room and see a needle sticking right out of his fucking arm. His skin is already discolored, he’s been dead a couple days. And nobody even realized it. Some brotherhood we are.

I turn it over, I turn it over I loved and I loved and I lost you I loved and I loved and I lost you I loved and I loved and I lost you And it hurts like hell -Cut by Plumb I’m not a stranger No, I am yours With crippled anger And tears that still drip sore A fragile flame aged With misery And when our eyes meet I know you’ll see I do not want to be afraid I do not want to die inside just to breathe in I’m tired of feeling so numb Relief exists I find it when I am cut I may seem crazy Or painfully shy And these scars wouldn’t be so hidden If you would just look me in the eye I feel alone here and cold here Though I don’t want to die But the only anesthetic that makes me feel anything kills i

I guess this is it, this is how I get out of this place Death!

“Yes?” I hesitated. Then whispered— “I want to see an amusement park.” He blinked slightly. “What?” I gave a small, fragile smile. “Just once.” My fingers tightened slightly in his. “Before…” The word didn’t come out. But he understood something was wrong. His expression changed. Concern. Fear. “Celyne…” I looked at him. My chest tightened. My voice dropped to almost nothing. “I’m sick, Liam.” Silence. Heavy. Still. “I’m dying.”

It was only at this moment—when she was completely isolated and helpless—that she finally realized just how incredibly good I had been to her. Bianca penned a long, rambling suicide note to me, filled with apologies and repentance. Then, she leaped off a bridge, bringing her life to an end.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing my gravestone, as if finally holding my hand. Alice collapsed to the ground, her screams tearing through the silence. Ella stood frozen, her arrogance finally replaced by terror. It was too late. Kael collapsed in a pool of blood, his heart already still.

… On and on they went, picking apart my life and marriage and dragging my name through the dirt, never knowing the man in the casket was still alive, counting down his final hours in despair. The pastor completed the last prayer, and the order was given to lower the casket. I struggled with everything I had, feeling every second tick away, but no one was coming to save me. I felt them carry me toward the plot. Right before they lowered me into the earth, I heard Celia lean in close against the casket. With much difficulty, I forced myself to mutter, "Help… me."

It wasn’t human, not really. It sounded like metal scraping on glass, filtered, distorted and cold. Her chest tightened, she forced herself to breathe. “I…” Her voice cracked on purpose. “I… you should talk, you called.” There was silence. “Fine!” Layla said, breathing heavily . “I saw it,” she continued quickly. “I saw Belinda die. She… she was shot.…” Her throat closed so she paused through it. “I can’t do it anymore, I’m tired, I’m done fighting you. You win.”