Cold Blood

His body shook violently, his hands rolled up into little fists, his legs curled up to his stomach. His bare chest remained bleeding, but even the pain didn't stop the cold. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his breathing was fast, trying hopelessly for his breath to warm the air around him. How he wished to go for a run, warm himself up, but it was out of the question. He couldn't stand, let alone walk or run. The exhaustion was almost as bad. He needed sleep. He couldn't get there. What if he didn't wake up when he did? So much blood. Too much blood. It was possible. He could die.

[112 words]