The Outlier

Prologue

I felt like I was floating, falling and flying all at the same time. Or maybe it was the alcohol talking. Or the fact that I was bleeding like a steady stream of water. My mind got fuzzy as it got more and more difficult to open my eyes.

Every exhale I released from my lips took as much energy as I'd imagine running a marathon would. The only I could see was the bright glass ball in the sky.

Glass managed to slice past my jeans and t-shirt— effectively reaching my flesh, soaking my clothes with blood.

It's safe to say I'm fucked. Faintly, I heard snippets of a conversation happening not too far away from where I lay. Nervous voices seemed to be panicking regarding the best course of action.

"Bro, what do we do?"

"She's dead."

"Her chest's moving. She's not dead if she's breathing."

"Let's just call an ambulance and dip."

I rolled over to my side, hoping for some more comfort as the life in me slowly faded. I instantly regretted my decision as a shard I hadn't noticed prior penetrated my bicep further. I groaned out in pain as I became more aware of the pain I felt around my body.

The deeper cuts on my skin dripped blood onto my body, warming me up. I attempted to pull the shards out of my arm and anywhere else they might be. It would be easier to walk home without the remains of a shattered windscreen piercing my body, I reasoned, if I could even walk, that is.

My usual reaction to blood seemed to have ceased. Or perhaps it was the alcohol-induced nausea that covered it up. I could've easily been enduring the two at once without knowing it, or perhaps I did know it— I just hoped for one positive outcome from this absolute goatfuck of a day, even if it was just an improved reaction to bodily fluids.

I looked to my side and let out an unattractive snort as I broke into a fit of painful giggles. I was bleeding like a punctured dam! I knew people had loads of blood in them, but not once did I ever imagine someone could bleed out gallons of blood.

My surroundings seemed to have hit a snag, and for a moment, I could've sworn the Earth stopped revolving. With great difficulty, I took my last breaths. Every time I breathed out, I used up all the air my lungs could give. And, eventually, they couldn't give any more oxygen.

The last thing I saw was a pair of ghostly white hands holding a deep, crimson apple with a soft melodic tune captivating me as I felt myself get closer to the source of the music— no longer feeling pain.

Then, everything went black.