I stared at the ceiling above me, tracing images in the speckled tiles like I did the stars as a child. Maybe they were the stars. I couldn’t tell anymore. Sound had escaped me; just a constant, overbearing silence. Silence so complete, so loud, it seemed fake – fabricated from my imagination like the stars in the ceiling. Awareness slowly crept into my echoing brain, dragging thoughts with it, attacking the silence with a vengeance, flooding the empty caverns and banging against the walls with enough force to cause them to shake. Or maybe I was the one shaking. As loud as the silence was, it was preferable to this… madness.
I blinked, that subtle movement of those miniscule patches of skin bringing forth a searing pain. My mind screamed in utter agony, but barley a whisper passed through my lips. You must have breath to scream. Strangely, thoughts of my Latin teacher slip into my mind, having reprimanded me for mixing up the phrases anima and animus.
“You breathe air, my child. Not spirit. Life would be much shorter if we all let our animus escape through our lips with a simple breath, would it not?”
My final thought, as the stars dimmed, was if I’d get to see my soul as it passed through my lips on my dying breath.