Perspective

Prelude

Prelude

I never thought much about how I was going to die. I mean, I suppose I thought about it a normal amount — everyone wonders when they're going to kick the bucket, right?

I just always assumed and hoped that my death would be boring and uneventful. Dying in my sleep was what I envisioned — I imagined my grey hair to be sprawled across my old-lady floral pillows and my sheets would smell of lavender. I would have photos of my grandkids splattered across my old-lady walls and their laughing faces would be the last thing I would see before closing my eyes for the last time.

Okay, maybe I did think a lot about how I was going to die — but I wasn't morbid or anything. I mean, Casey Little was the 'emo' in our year and she was the definition of morbid. I was just...  imaginative. Ash liked to call me dramatic but he was one to talk — the last time he beat me in Mario Kart, he made himself a trophy out of my tinfoil. Now that was dramatic.

This thought resulted in a sharp pang in my heart. Was the last time we played Mario Kart really the last time? I guessed it was, considering the current situation — predicament, if you will. I didn't know why I wasn't freaking out more — I mean, I was pretty sure that I was moments from death. Surely that allowed for some freaking out?

I stalled my erratic thoughts and listened. I couldn't move in my seat — the dashboard was pinning me painfully against it. I didn't know what scared me more — the pain or the numbness that was spreading throughout my body.

There was no noise from the back seat and I couldn't move my head to look at the driver's side. I opened my mouth to speak but useless gasping was all that came out.

My friends would probably laugh and say 'thank God, she's quiet for once!' if the situation wasn't so serious. I didn't think this particular situation was laughable — and it was rare for me to say that about anything.

I could hear the sirens faintly in the background. I could imagine what the paramedics were thinking. 'Stupid teenagers, driving too fast as per usual.' This probably wasn't even the first crash they'd come to today. Such a defining moment in my life was a mere job for them — they probably wouldn't even remember us by the end of their shift.

I felt sorry for the scene they would have to witness. I couldn't see what we looked like but from the wetness of my clothes, I knew that it was blood. Was it even mine? Hopefully I lived long enough to apologise to the paramedics — apologise for ruining their day.

I wanted someone to hear what I had to say before I went... This couldn't just be it! Where was my dramatic groaning and mumbling, moments away from death? If I was going to die like this, at least let it be memorable! Let me die mid-sentence like the movies, just before I was about to reveal something vitally important, like the solution to global warming or something.

I tried to lift my own spirits with these joking thoughts, but the tears seemed determined on springing from my eyes. My breathing was becoming more shallow and black dots were impairing my vision... I wasn't ready! How had I gone from laughing and messing around to dying?

I had so much more to say — so much life left to live.

And it was all being taken away, just like that. No mercy, no chances. I would never get to say goodbye. How would they cope without me? How would he cope?

I would never see their faces again. And that was worse than death.