Final Flatline

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Aurel felt a lump begin to form in her throat— a telltale sign that she would start to cry soon, whether it be out of sadness or guilt or just pure frustration out of the absurdity of her situation.

She felt hopeless.
She felt frightened.

She felt dead.

Red. Crimson red. Bright, bold, fearless red. 

Like the color of velvet; like the color of roses. 

Like the color of blood. 

Aurel stared at the scarlet ribbon, curiosity dancing behind her green irises. 

It was wrapped around her wrist, fitting perfectly atop her pale skin and bluish veins. She didn’t quite know how it got there—it was just there. 

It’s not like Aurel really cared, anyhow. The ribbon wasn’t hurting her, and besides, it looked beautiful. 

Beautiful in… a different sort of way. 

Aurel finally looked up—away from the ribbon—and noticed something was wrong. Very, very, wrong. 

She was still in her hospital bed, yes, but those four, grey, familiar-yet-unfamiliar walls of the room were just… gone. 

It’s cold

Aurel blinked slowly. 

She could see nothing— nothing past her bed, anyway. It was one part foggy, two parts dark, and 100% bone-chilling. 

Now, this is the part where Aurel should’ve felt her heart begin to speed up and pulse louder and quicker than ever before.

But it didn’t. 

She placed one hand on her chest, right above where her heart was. 

Where her heart should’ve been. 


Her heart was silent. Not a single beat. 

How… how am I even…

It’s not possible...

Aurel felt a lump begin to form in her throat— a telltale sign that she would start to cry soon, whether it be out of sadness or guilt or just pure frustration out of the absurdity of her situation. 

She felt hopeless. 

She felt frightened. 

She felt dead. 

Aurel pursed her lips, biting back a cry of agony as she tried to stretch out on the bed. Her muscles were stiff. Far too stiff to belong to the body of a 16-year-old girl. 

Each breath was so shallow and weak. Her lungs felt like they were about to just collapse at any given moment. 

Her arms were shaking. Trembling. The only thing she could find the tiniest bit of solace in was the pleasant red ribbon around her wrist. 

Aurel didn’t want to see. Aurel didn’t want to know what was beyond the comfort of her bed. 

It scared her. 

She curled herself into a ball, hugging her knees close to her chest and gripping the thin sheets tightly. Locks of choppy red hair fell over her face, obscuring practically everything from her vision. 

It’s safe like this, Aurel reminded herself. It’s safe. 

But deep down, she knew she was nothing more than a coward. A coward who could do NOTHING but hide and cry and wallow in her own self-pity. 

Ironically enough, just thinking about it made her want to cry even more. 

Her chest was cold. Her hands were cold. 


There was silence. Silence so thick to the point where it was almost tangible. 

Do you remember?”

Aurel’s head flew up instinctively. 

Sitting at the foot of her bed was a hooded figure, cloaked in darkness and shadows. 

She parted her lips to speak, but nothing came out. 

Do you remember who you were?” the stranger asked once more. “Who you wanted to be?” 

Somehow, the voice sounded familiar. Like she had… heard it before. 

It was almost soothing, strangely enough.

An odd sensation of deja vu passed over her. 

The stranger reached over to grab her wrist— the one with the ribbon around it. Their hand was frigid— just like her own. 

Suddenly, the ribbon was ripped off and thrown to the side. It laid on the floor, discarded and torn. 

The ribbon that Aurel had loved so much was gone. 

The ribbon’s absence exposed something else on her wrist. Something far, far worse. 

A rush of nausea passed through her stomach. 

She wanted to scream and cry and shout. 

She wanted to look away. 

This isn’t real, she told herself. It never happened. 

But it did happen. 

It happened, and Aurel was sure of it. 

Though that didn’t make it any easier to accept.




There really was no going back, was there? 

She weighed the decision out in her mind for what felt like the hundredth time. 

Surely, there’s someone who’d miss me, she reasoned. Someone who cares… maybe even just a little…

She didn’t know whether to laugh or weep at the idea of it. 

She just didn’t know. 

Everything hurt too much. A throbbing, dull, but never-ending ache. 

It felt heavy. The knife, the weight of her own mind, those thoughts that she couldn’t get out of her mind no matter how many times she banged her head against the wall. 

She stared at her wrist. She could see her veins. They looked like little blue snakes. 

Snakes she was oh-so-desperate to slice. To kill. 

Perhaps ridding herself of those snakes would rid the world of another sort of snake. Another sort of vermin. 

Her lips were dry and chapped. There was some vaseline on the nightstand, though she didn’t bother with it

Too far gone to bother with anything. 

Oh, but she knew. 

She was going to die. 

There was poison in her head— the same head that was, unfortunately enough, marching her body to her death. 

The knife inched closer to her wrist. Closer, and closer, and closer still…

And then red. 

Red blossomed from her open wound, spilling down her arm and onto the ground. 

Like roses. Like velvet. 

She felt her vision grow blurry. Her knees buckled.

The last thing Aurel saw before going unconscious was a flash of scarlet. 

Like blood.


Where was she? 

It was lonely, wherever she was. Her eyes were shut, but she could hear a few people murmuring amongst themselves. 

Aurel only caught a few snippets of their conversation. 

“...significant blood loss…”

“...critical condition...miracle she’s even alive…”

She could hear another thing, too. 


A heart monitor. 

So she was at the hospital. 


That wasn’t supposed to happen. 

She was supposed to be gone. Dead. 

Instead, she was being held there. Bound there. By tubes and machines and whoever took her there and insisted on her survival. 


It was getting louder. 

It must’ve just been in her head. Like everything else. 


Her eyes flew open. 

The lights were blindingly bright. The walls were painted a boring shade of elephant grey. 

“She’s awake!” someone cried. 

A nurse rushed towards her, saying something that Aurel didn’t quite catch. 

Because it all ended before it could even start again. 

Her eyes drooped closed. 





Silence. There was nothing but silence. 

Because Aurel T. Sullivan was aware—painfully aware—that she had reached her flatline. 



“I do.”


“I remember.” 

Aurel shifted in the bed, still refusing to make eye contact with the hooded stranger. 

Everything,” she added, her voice shaking. “Everything.”

“Well, then…” The stranger cocked their head. “You’re a murderer, you know.” 

Her breath hitched. “W-what?”

“A murderer.” They pointed to her. “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

Aurel shook her head. “N-no, I just…” Her voice grew quiet. “I never—”

“Yes, you did.” 

They removed their hood. 

It was like she was staring into a mirror. 

Standing before Aurel T. Sullivan was Aurel T. Sullivan. 

“Me,” the other her said, pointing at their chest. “You murdered me.” 

Aurel didn’t speak, because she physically couldn’t. 

She couldn’t move. 

She couldn’t hear. 

She couldn’t breathe. 

She couldn’t blink. 

Shadows began to form. They danced across her vision, then compromised it entirely. 


Silence. There was nothing but guilty, dreadful, silence. 


Because Aurel T. Sullivan was aware—painfully aware—that she had reached her flatline. 

Her final flatline.

Submitted: February 10, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Commander Cryptic. All rights reserved.

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