People say when you get shot in the head you die instantly, there's no pain, just death . What a load of bull shit! What the fuck do those fuckers know they have clearly never been shot in the head before! Not that I wouldn't happily oblige the fucking assholes!
To the fucker who pulls the trigger it's a bang and you're dead. But its bull fucking shit! Nothing about death is painless! Every millisecond is drawn out every nerve in your body is alive till the very end! You know you're dying even as the bullet tears through your brain severing the signals nothing can stop it. But you will still fight to stay alive even as you feel it like the worse migraine you've ever fucking had. You'll watch yourself fall, unable to move your arms to catch yourself. If you're lucky you'll fall backwards, getting to watch the sky or the ceiling before you kick off to the next world. If your not you get to face plant into the smelly fucking ground squished into shit before you kick off. And I am far from lucky.
Almost three hundred years and a countless number of mother fucking deaths and I can't even fall backward. No! No, instead I get my face planted into the sterilized white tiled floor. Not my idea of a fun death! No, that honor currently belongs to my five hundred and something deaths. Fuck! I honestly lost count but I had gotten so drunk I had stumbled onto a train track and wham. I didn't feel it just a bright light, the roar of the train and bam, utter blackness. That had been a lucky death.
But not today, today was my birthday, you know, another bloody year living another year dying just to be dragged back to life kicking and screaming. I just wanted it to stick, I wanted the utter darkness of death to envelop me in its comforting embrace and never let me go ever again. No more pain of resurrections, no more centuries of living, no more agonizing bullets tearing through my brain, just silence, just nothing.
Call me reckless, call me suicidal, call me a raging bitch cause darling I've heard it all. I may not look it but I am older than anyone can imagine and I will be here long after everyone has long moved on into the embrace of death. I have died over and over. I have been shot and stabbed, felt my limbs ripped from my body, felt my skin sizzle and bubble in the heat of flame, and the only semblance of peace in the few sweet seconds of death. Its all a load of fucking bull shit! I die only to be dragged into life over and over. The mortal dream to meet your soulmate, to bond and grow old together is a mockery to someone like me. As if the universe itself laughs in my face. A mystical bond connecting me to two unknown strangers destined to meet and fall in love with each other. What a fucking load of crap! How can an immortal possibly love people knowing I am destined to one day stand on their graves. Why can't I just fucking die already?!
*AN: I started this book a long time ago and since then my writing has changed drastically so I decided to rewrite the intro to our darling badass immortal.*
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