If I Knew Then

Chapter 1: An Unusual Offer

(1) Precious, they say, never to be taken for granted. The center of our existence. The blood in our veins. The air in our lungs. So easily taken away. In a flash we can lose it all. And because it is so fragile, we are taught to fear its loss; to cherish our every moment on this earth.

      Life is a gift, they say. I tried to be polite. I tried to force a smile of gratitude and appreciate all that was gifted to me. But as hard as one may try, genuine gratitude cannot be forced. You can pretend to be happy; pretend to be satisfied with your life. Fooling others is easy. Most fall for masked smiles. But fooling yourself is impossible. Eventually the truth eats away at your insides, and you are left empty. You become numb. And how can you come to truly appreciate something when you have lost the ability to feel?

       There comes a time when you realise that living a lie is no way to live. And when you reach your lowest, you either go to great extents to feel something, anything, even if pain, or you go to even greater extent to end it all.

      I opted for the latter. Maybe you would call me foolish. A coward or selfish, even. For you thought my life was perfect: a healthy, loving family, in line for a successful future. What good reason did I have to be consumed by darkness? I could never make you understand what it was like to live a mind like my own. A mind that seeks nothing but to destroy itself.

      One can only be numb for so long before you feel your humanity slip through your bloody fingers.

      I heaved my first breath of relief in months. As the dreadful weight on my shoulders vanished, so did the dark pit in my stomach. Such intense relief washed over me, that I couldn't bother to be perplexed by the impeccably white room in which I woke.

      Eyes shut, nostrils flared as I breathed in the fresh air, through hypnotizing peace, many moments passed before I spotted the raven-haired boy. In this inexplicable emptiness, stood only he and I.

      "Hello," I greeted.

      The blue-eyed boy smiled in returned greeting. As two wooden chairs appeared out of thin air, he pulled the first one under him and nodded his head towards the other. I took the hint, dropping down in the second seat.

      "Are you God?" I asked. He didn't look more than a few years older than me, still shy of adulthood, but the God theory was the only reasonable explanation I could muster.

      "No." He laughed. "I'm just Jaxson."

      "Nice to meet you, Just Jaxson. I'm Addilyn—"

      "I know who you are," he interrupted softly.

      "Angel, then?"

      "No." He chuckled again. "I'm someone who's been in your shoes. I'm only here to help."

      "Help me with what? Crossing over? I can't imagine there's anything holding me to the living world... I made this decision."

     Jaxson smiled sadly, eyes crinkling in their corners. I couldn't decide if the smile was of someone who understood my predicament or someone who knew something I didn't.

     "When the time comes, I will be there to guide you, but we've yet to reach the crossing over point."

     With a deep frown, I clamped my lips shut, hoping my silence would encourage him to go on. I had always envisioned death a finality of consciousness or an immediate passage into a bright light. I hadn't envisioned anything in between. No process to follow or waiting to be fulfilled.

      "Your situation is peculiar," Jaxson admitted. "Just as mine was."

      "Peculiar how?"

      "Few people, like us, follow a different process in their crossing over."