"Don't leave," he whispered, almost pleading. "Please. I'm......I'm sorry."
I watched on, unmoved. He didn't believe in what he said. He said it only because I was close to death, seemingly in the futile hope that my fading will to live would suddenly re-emerge and overpower the toll that the injuries had taken on my body. If I came back, everything would go back to the way it was before; it'll be as though the accident never happened and I wouldn't be here in the hospital on my deathbed; nothing would change. He simply didn't want someone he knew - but never really cared about - to die. I knew he didn't mean it.
Without another thought, I left.
The electrocardiogram sounded that long, dreaded beep.
"No...." he murmured. It took a second for him to realise what was happening. "No, NO!"
I smirked on my way up to heaven. It was about time he felt what it was like to truly lose someone, anyone. Ultimately, I wasn't looking forward to living anyway. Not as though my absence would leave a wounded, gaping hole in the hearts of those whom I knew on Earth; even if it did, it would heal rather quickly, perhaps quicker than most wounds.
Medical staff rushed into the room, and hurriedly escorted him out as they tried to revive my now-lifeless body, to no avail.
Just another idea I'd been playing around with. It's obviously not a full-fledged story, just an idea for one.
Currently listening to: Breathe - Ryan Star.