I closed my eyes for a moment. Just a moment. The air smelled like gasoline and cigarette smoke. Something sharp and bitter hung there too, maybe the ghost of a burnt tire or piss in the gutter. It didn't matter.
Then, in a flash that didn't feel real, it happened.
The sound came first. A deep, low growl that turned into a thunderous roar. Not like thunder, though. No. It was more mechanical, more angry. Tires screeched. Horns screamed. And then—
CRACK.
A bone-shattering collision exploded through the car like a bomb. Time slowed, as if the universe decided I deserved to watch this one moment stretch into eternity.
Glass shattered into a million shards, catching the light like tiny stars. The window next to me burst open as metal tore like paper. The world turned sideways. My head slammed into something—hard. My vision blinked, flickered. A warm trickle slid down my temple. The roar didn't stop. The sound of crushing metal filled my ears as the side of the car crumpled inward like a soda can under a boot.
I saw a truck. Just for a second. Massive. Blue. Its grill painted with rust and blood and time. It had run the red light. Maybe the driver was drunk. Maybe they were texting. Maybe they just didn't care, like everyone else. The front of it smashed through the car with such force I could hear bones snapping—mine, his, it didn't matter.
I didn't scream. I didn't say a word.
My body was thrown sideways. Something sharp tore through my leg. My chest compressed like it had caved in. A taste of iron filled my mouth. My ribs were gone. I felt weightless. Light. Like I was being peeled out of myself.
And then… nothing.
Darkness. Stillness.
Silence.
There's nothing for me here.
There never was.
And finally, I had escaped... or so I thought.
***
I'd spent so long fantasizing about dying, thinking of different ways to die and wishing them upon myself. I didn't care if I had to die in the most gruesome, cruel manner, I just wanted to die. The pain didn't matter. In fact, the pain had become an old friend over the years.
What I never thought about, in my many years of orchestrating my death over and over again, was what would happen after I died. Would I go to heaven? No, I'd definitely go to hell. Judging by the way my life went, I'd probably get the short end of the stick again.
But what if there wasn't heaven or hell? What if it was just an afterlife? What if there was no afterlife? What if I reincarnated or something? What if I just ended up as a piece of nothing floating around endlessly in nothingness? So many possibilities, none of which I gave any thought to.
Even though I didn't know what to expect after dying, I knew that what happened next wasn't supposed to happen.
I let out a huge gasp as my eyes suddenly opened.
The gasp was followed by a flurry of coughs—deep, wet, and burning like fire in my lungs. I clutched my chest, or tried to, but my limbs felt heavy and wrong, like someone had stuffed my bones full of gravel and snapped a few in the process. Pain lit up every nerve like a Christmas tree from hell.
I sucked in another breath, but it hurt too. My throat felt like sandpaper, my ribs like cracked porcelain. My head throbbed like it was caught between a hammer and anvil, pulsing with every frantic beat of my heart.
I blinked rapidly. Once. Twice. My vision swam.
Where the hell was I?
The last thing I remembered was the crash—the glass, the metal, the truck, the sound of my body folding like cardboard. I remembered the weightlessness, the blood. I remembered thinking, finally. Finally, it's over.
But now… this?
Did I survive?
A low groan spilled from my throat, more out of confusion than pain. I lifted my hand and stared at it. Shaky, trembling fingers. Pale. Dirty. Still there.
Alive.
No. No, no, no, no.
I wasn't supposed to survive. That crash wasn't survivable. I felt my ribs cave in. I tasted my blood. I heard the end. I died. I know I did. So what the hell was this?
I let my head fall back against the soft… pillow?
My eyes darted around.
White ceiling. Cracks running across it like spiderwebs. Dim lights flickering weakly. No beeping machines. No sterile hospital smell. No nurses or doctors or frantic voices. Just a ceiling. A dim yellow bulb buzzing overhead like it was too tired to stay on.
Panic crept in, cold and subtle. My heart started to pound. I tried to sit up slowly, but the moment I moved, pain screamed through my back and my side. I winced, biting back a yell.
Every inch of my body ached like it had been chewed up and spit out. My joints groaned, muscles twitched without permission, and my skull felt like it was still halfway cracked open. I brought my hand to my head, felt for blood, but all I found was a scab and sticky sweat.
It didn't make sense.
I glanced down at myself—still wearing the same clothes. Torn, burnt at the edges, bloodstained. My shirt was barely intact, dried blood crusted on the collar. Jeans torn at the knee, one sock missing. My shoes were gone. And my leg… oh God, my leg. It was wrapped in dirty gauze, swollen and throbbing with every breath. But it was still there.
I was still here.
A sick kind of grief curled in my stomach.
I hadn't died.
I was alive.
Alive.
Alive.
The word echoed in my mind like a curse.
I turned my face to the side and let the bitter sting of disappointment sink into me. My eyes welled up—not from pain, not even from fear—but from pure, soul-splitting despair. I didn't want this. I didn't want to wake up. I didn't want to keep breathing, keep thinking, keep being.
Why?
Why couldn't it have just ended?
Why did the universe insist on dragging me back, like some sick joke?
My breathing hitched.
Then a thought hit me—sudden, violent, bright.
What about him?
What if he didn't survive?
What if I did—but he didn't?
The grief twisted, shifted, morphed into something else. Something warm. Hope. A sick, dangerous kind of hope.
My breath caught.
What if the crash took him?
What if his cold, lifeless body was being wheeled into some morgue right now? What if I never had to see his face again, never had to hear that voice ask me stupid questions he didn't care to hear answers to? What if his fists were finally buried six feet beneath the earth where they couldn't reach me anymore?
I laughed.
It came out broken, hoarse, a sputtering cough of a laugh, but it was real. For the first time in forever, I felt light. Not weightless like in the crash. But light, like some chain had snapped off me and hit the ground.
The joy bloomed wild and stupid inside me.
I shoved myself upright without thinking.
Bad idea.
The moment I got halfway up, the world tilted violently. My head spun, my vision turned to static, and my stomach flipped like a coin. Pain punched me in the gut, and my leg screamed out in protest. I bit back a curse and gritted my teeth, leaning on the edge of the bed for support.
Bed?
I paused.
Only now did I really take a look around.
This... wasn't a hospital room