It starts to crack. I hear it shatters into a million pieces. I pick the tiny little pieces up, grasping in my hands. The sharpness pricks right into my flesh, I feel the pain, the harder I hold on to it. I see my blood oozes and lines elegantly all the way down to my arms, what a horrendous sight, yet paints millions of bucks even art value can't buy.
I'm running out of blood now. I should be panicked at this moment. Average person would have started flying white flag by now. The seconds continue ticking away. Shall I fight or bid goodbye...? Shifting to my millions of cells in my skull, looking for rationality, I shall calculate my chances to make the battle worthwhile. Time is almost up.
Time is up.
I still cannot die.
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