My body was crushed. Weighed down by the building that had crashed landed on me.
I was losing consciousness. Blood was running down my throat and on my tongue.
I don't want to even think about my limbs, my bones. Wow, the pain.
The sky was filled with smoke from the fallen buildings. Sounds of people shuffling their bodies out from the slabs of bricks and cement were everywhere.
I was growing tired. My ears echoed my lungs working overtime trying to pump blood, air, and energy into my flesh and skin. Kinda useless don't you think?
No amount of strength can bring me back to life. What would I even accomplish, should I be given a second chance?
My eyes were growing heavy, too exhausted to stay open.
Not just open though, exhausted to even see the wreckage that mirrored my life, the current state of existence that laughed at my expense.
My demise.
Everything fell apart and into place. My grave was a step away.
The only good step that was worth the entirety of my 22 years of living.
Goodbye.
I gave up my ghost. The last breath that signified I was here. I'm gone now.
The end.
….
It was quiet. I no longer heard, or felt, the beating of my heart in my ears. It was deafening.
Deathly you could say.
It was so dark. But the darkness was comforting. It enveloped me. Covered me in its tender arms.
The darkness accepted everything about me. My flaws, scars, failures, and mistakes. It saw me and didn't judge.
The light could never be this kind.
The sounds of rubble being moved startled me. Wasn't I dead?
Did, did my body, my life, still struggles to push forward? I couldn't just give up this once? Not even in death, I had to push ahead, even in my foolishness?
Voices were filling the surrounding atmosphere. I couldn't make out the words they were saying. They were talking gently.
I suddenly feel a huge weight lifted off my legs, my arms. They breathed movement. Traitors.
They wanted to live. The heavy slab of concrete that rested on my chest was pushed off and I could, quite literally, feel my lungs and heart expand and beat so excessively, as if trying their dang hardest to take back all the breath I lost in this short time. How hypocritical.
Fighting against death is quite the tournament.
My eyes, the last to give way, were also the last to recover. Not surprised, not even I would want to see me get back together.
I struggled to lift my eyelids open. It was heavy, difficult, I don't think blood had reached my eye sockets yet, or they were trying. When I did finally open them, two… things were staring back at me.
Ghosts.Or kind of. They were covered in white hoods, with two black holes cut out for their eyes. Not like I could see their eyes though.
I stared back in, astonishment, not shock or fear though. I don't think you can feel fear after you've been brought back from the dead.
The two figures grabbed my arms and helped me sit upright. I looked at my feet. They weren't as massacred as I thought they would be. No bone sticking out or flesh peeling off. I was still a little lightheaded but fine. My arms aren't sore, my stomach, chest, were not bruised.
Had I really died? Was this the afterlife? Is that where I am?
The damage from the earthquake/tornado should have rendered me useless. But I'm not, at least not physically.
My surroundings were still dark, hollow in a way. Similar to the inside of a cave. The only thing lit was the lantern that sat off to the side. Strange. Was I not on a street? Covered in debris? I feel like my situation was an isolated incident, even though when the buildings fell, others were on the streets, people in their cars, and on sidewalks.
Why does this feel like I was singled out?
The figure on my left held out their hand, I accepted and they helped me stand up. My feet almost gave in, wobbling. They felt heavy, like the aftereffects of death were still attached to my being. My arms were also heavy, my fingers struggled to grab his arm, and I collapsed into the figure’s chest.
I froze. He-or rather they- they were cold. Still, as one that was frozen in a time capsule. I looked up at them and nothing but those black holes stared back.
I blushed and tried stepping away from them, almost tripping, they caught me, again.
Let me just stare at my feet until they start behaving. The figure opposite us began walking away from us, I guess to our exit.
“Are you ok? Can you walk with assistance?” the figure I was with was talking to me. I look up.
Nothing but dark eyes but somehow, his demeanor felt gentle.
I nod and they put my right arm around their neck, putting their left arm under my arm and around my back, for support. We begin walking, slowly at first. They were matching my pace.
I have never felt so slow in my life.
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