A/N: Yeah...earlier I listened to Hyperventilation Dance by Miku and was inspired to write this. I tried second person so I'm not sure if it sounds alright. I'm not used to writing in second person...but whatever. I hope you guys have fun reading this! ^o^


You wake up at night, not sure what time it is. But the time isn't the thing that's bothering you right now. Somehow, it seems that your windpipe has gotten smaller, or is blocked by something, and you wheeze, eyes widening as you gasp for air. Suddenly, you can hear something. If you listened carefully, you could hear something.

There is a noise outside, an unpleasant noise, something like the loud accompaniment at a festival. You listen further, and it begins to sound like two people discussing or talking really loudly. Whatever they are saying, it sounds to you like, "Ruth, you're dead." The phrase repeats itself in your oxygen-deprived mind, also coming out several times in the two persons' conversation.

Really? Am I really dead? You think, slightly confused. Oh yeah, maybe I am. I can't breathe properly after all...perhaps I really am dead... You suddenly realize that your current position – lying on your back and staring at the ceiling – is making breathing more difficult and uncomfortable.

Come on, come on! Breathe in...breathe out... You tell yourself, not wanting to move for fear of more breathing problems, but soon breathing becomes nearly impossible in your position, and you slowly rotate yourself, wincing slightly. Even moving restricts your air flow, you realize, as breathing becomes even harder while you are moving. It hurts...it hurts... You grit your teeth, and finally manage to roll onto your side. Breathing becomes easier, and you can almost hear the rush of oxygen entering your lungs.

Almost sighing in relief, you grin slightly. That slight grin is quickly wiped off your face as you catch sight of a strange figure in your bedroom, right in front of the television set. It looks like an old man with a pale face, a complexion that's just utterly wrong and shouldn't be plastered onto anybody's face. Your eyes widen and you freeze as you catch sight of the sharp, gleaming sickle in his right hand.

It's the reaper.

He speaks. It sounds terrifying, like a raspy and soft whisper, but also – at the same time – like a loud, booming command.

"Don't stop breathing, or I'll take your soul."

It's enough to make you shift slightly, despite the instant pain that blooms in your throat and chest as you do. You then realize that you haven't taken a single breath since you saw the reaper, and you nearly start to panic, your chest heaving rapidly as you try to take in oxygen. Your windpipe seems like it's tightened further; breathing is even harder than it was when you'd just woken up.

Wanting – no, needing to breathe more, you quickly change your position, and the pain spikes hard, making you wheeze in discomfort and move faster. Finally, you manage to move a bit, but breathing doesn't come as easily as it had when you first changed your position. You realize, with a sudden shock, that you can't breathe, and that the burning pain in your chest is increasing with every moment that you don't breathe.

Thoughts fly through your head, blaring out, sounding almost like an annoying siren that won't be shut up.


With a sudden effort of will, you manage to toss yourself over, staring at the ceiling once again. Come on, come on! Just breathe!You inhale sharply, but only a thin flow of oxygen enters your lungs. You fist your hands in the sheets tightly, and the pain suddenly comes back, twice as strong, hitting you right in the chest. You nearly scream, but manage to choke it down. You can feel spit and drool coming out of your mouth, and it disgusts you.


Your eyes shift lazily over to the reaper – whom you had nearly forgotten about – standing in the corner. He seems much closer, much clearer, and you realize that everything around you is fading away, turning lighter and lighter, leaving only you and the reaper in a blank, empty space. Shuddering and taking one last breath, you speak clearly.

"End it."

And with that, the reaper grins – revealing white, sharp teeth – and swings his sickle down at you and all that's left of you is your dead, motionless body.


A/N: I had a lot of problems writing this, lol, and I don't really think it came out too good, but I still like it. The last sentence ain't that good, but I didn't know how else to end it. In case you couldn't understand it, it's about a girl who wakes up with an asthma attack and hears two people talking outside. Her oxygen-deprived mind thinks that they're saying that she's dead, and she believes them because she can't breathe. So she starts turning herself, trying to find a position that's comfortable in. She sees the reaper who tells her to keep turning or he'll take her, and in the end the pain becomes so unbearable that she asks him to end her suffering. ^^