Pessimistic Coodies (RusAme)

Fatal Injury

Falling is a strange feeling. That weird feeling you get in the lower pits of your stomach is a chemical imbalance in your brain. Some people hate it, and others live for it. I was never a fanatic about it, however, the feeling numbs after awhile and it becomes easier to endure.

And once that feeling numbs, so does the feeling of fear. You just accept your possible death. The world moves in slow motion and for a second, you'll feel the most free you've ever felt. And quite frankly, that is how I'd like to spend my last few seconds on Earth. My legs and arms were fully extended outwards; one of my hands connected me to the American who was in the same position as me.

The wind smacks my face as the distance from the ground decreases. My eyes were tearing from such force, yet it would immediately dry every drop that slipped out from my eye. I look over to America. He wears a soft smile as we fall. He faces me when he feels my eyes fixated upon him. He holds his other hand for me to take.

I reach my right hand to grab his left hand. We gaze at each other as we fall; he still softly smiles and I can feel myself replicating it back. He then begins to move his hips causing us to spin to the left. He releases my hands from his grasp. "Close your eyes and lean back." he warns. I listen.

I soon feel my fall being broken by many thin branches. The consistent sounds of snapping fills the air. Leaves now smack my face instead of the wind. The sounds of the branches transform into a loud thud. I hear the sound more than I feel it. I lay on the ground looking up at the drizzling sky. Did I really survive a 200 foot fall? I lift my hand and place it onto my neck to still feel a beating pulse. I sit up while comforting my head. I felt like I had a million scratches and bruises on me.

In a small distance, I see America sitting on the ground grinning, "Hey look, you're alive! This is great!" he chimes. I laugh at his ridiculous comment.

"You weren't lying about always landing on your feet." I say as I stand up. I brush my clothes, they were dirty and a bit torn.

"No kidding, although the impact did something to my ankle and it is now killing me." he admits. I limp over to him feeling all my wounds at once.

"Well, that is to be expected... we did fall off of a 200 foot cellular tower..." I remind. I extend a hand out to him to help him up. He holds his hand up to decline my assistance.

"Nah, I think I'll just lay here for awhile." he then collapses into the grass. What a piece of work. I roll my eyes with a grin plastered on my face and I sit beside him. It is quiet momentarily until I decide to reflect. "I was so scared of falling, I was holding onto that rail for dear life."

"Let me ask you something Russia..." I turn to give him my full attention. "Are you afraid to die?"

The question sat with great discomfort in me. Was I? "I... I don't know..." I tell him.

"Hm, I can't even tell myself." he says.

"At least I'm not alone then." I say feeling reassured. He then chuckles mockingly, "Oh, I meant for you. I discovered long ago that I was not afraid of death. I can't tell whether or not you fear it."

My face transforms into a catatonic stare. I was so done with him. Soon my brows become heavy as I stare at him. My silence can speak enough words for me. He lets out a small chuckle. "You still aren't blinking!" He falls into another laughing fit. What a damn psycho. I close my eyes and exhale forcefully. "America, go lay on a fucking highway." I mutter.

His small flamboyant laughs fill the atmosphere. I was starting to find it to be alluring. He lays on the ground with teary closed eyes as his chest rises and sinks with every escaping sound from his lips. My bitter expression diminishes.