All the blood, just as his blood was staining her blue dress. Poured every drop of his blood that out had covered her all over. Like the dress she wore was painted in his blood. His wound, his blood, was being drained out of his body slowly, drop by drop.
When a metal rod had fallen down onto him, it had caused the stabbed wound at his stomach. Striking his stomach, through and through. Whenever Wang Yi-An moved a centimetre, he would feel a hurting tug by the metal rod, but he didn’t scream or shout. Enduring every bit of the pain.
His only thought was how many times he had dreamt of being on top of her. How many times he had dreamt of holding her into his arms, having her face buried into his chest… He never wanted it to be like this, but he was still glad.
“Sorry, that I’m crushing you like this… But… My arms are too tired… I… I can’t… Am I hurting you?”