One Shots

Neither, Nor Part 2

Alternate reality from part 1

Adrenaline surged though me, yet I felt detached, as though I was watching everything unfold through a distance.

The scene unfolded like a nightmare. Twisted metal glinted under the harsh glare of streetlights, a mangled car resting at an unnatural angle. Glass shards scattered across the pavement, while the air hung heavy with the acrid scent of burning rubber and gasoline. Bystanders stood frozen, their faces etched with horror and disbelief. Sirens wailed in the distance, a haunting reminder of urgency. In that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, each second stretching into eternity as the reality of the accident I just witnessed settled in.

I couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing. I'd been through this experience before- the disorienting blur of chaos, the frantic search for answers, the numbing disbelief that follows.

Each moment felt surreal, as if time had slowed down, leaving me caught in a whirlwind of emotions that I couldn't quite grasp. Fear flickered beneath the surface, yet I was strangely calm, almost as if I had become accustomed to this turmoil. The weight of the situation pressed down on me, but I found myself floating above it, a ghost in a world filled with confusion and urgency.

But now I wasn't alone in it—one of the people I loved the most was reliving it right in front of me.

Desperate to catch my breath, I watched her struggle for hers. The air itself seemed to slip from my lungs, a sensation I knew to well. She was fighting for her life as I once did for mine. A deep ache formed in my chest; I wanted to reach out, to hold her, and tell her everything would be okay, just like my grandmother did for me in my darkest moments. But a gut crushing reality settled in, I knew deep down it wasn't going to be okay. Her eyes mirrored mine in the moment I went through that. I was caught in the moment between wanting to shield her and the stark truth that this was her fight alone, like it was mine once before.

I never made it.

The peace I had felt waking up after my accident surrounded by family and friends, was all but an illusion. It was something else entirely—far more permanent. The realization hit me like a cold wave, pulling me under. The connection to life I once cherished felt distant, as if it belonged to someone else. A profound emptiness settled in, replacing the warmth of those moments. I could see their faces, hear their laughter, but it all felt like a dream slipping away.

I wasn't alive anymore. Unsure how I remained in neither, nor reality.

I felt a presence behind me. Slowly, I turned. It was my sister, with me in the shadows, her eyes pale with disbelief.

"I thought I made it." My voice in a mere whisper. But I was wrong.

She didn't speak back. We could never go back and I felt it. And then the next thing I know I'm gasping for air with her warm embrace, as if it's anchoring her in a place where nothing else is real. Tears filled her eyes but wouldn't fall, as if she didn't want to let go, now or ever.

"I missed you so much." I could hear the urgency in her tone. A soft tremble in her voice, a realization that dawned slowly, painfully. No wonder why I still felt alive, she never let go.

"I just witnessed what you went through as I did. Sister I am so so sorry." Our eyes shut, hoping somehow this moment would stretch into forever. Not wanting to remember the pain, what happened or lied ahead. "I still felt alive because of you, you never let go, it still kept me close." Her smell, her hair, just her, made me realize this was really happening.

"None of us are ever truly prepared to loose someone we love." I tightened my embrace unable to hold back my sobs. 

She clung onto me for so long. It was like life granted her this chance to have this exact moment with me. I couldn't comprehend how in the span of a year we both faced this horrid experience, leaving our family without our presence. Then it struck me—perhaps she could return, even if it meant leaving me behind. It felt like a possibility hanging in the air, a realization I couldn't ignore.

"I think there might be a way for you to go back but you have to truly let me go. If you let go I can get you back to your body."  It dawned on me—this must be why I couldn't go back. I had never let go of my grandmother after our last conversation after I crashed; I had been with her all along, unaware that she wasn't alive. Tethering us together in a way I hadn't fully realized.

Pushing away my assumptions as her grip tightened for a moment and she turns her face to face me.

"I don't know how. How can I bear that? Loosing you, has been like loosing a part of myself. For all we know I am imagining this and we'll never be reunited."

The words hung between us. I understood her pain, I felt it too. How could I tell her we were out of chances, if she stayed there was no more waking up again. I worried about my parents, they needed someone there with my absence. Both of us couldn't go at the same time, they would join us right after. We'd always been there for them.

"We'll never truly loose each other. You have to trust me. This is the only way forward."

"Stop it! I dont want to say goodbye."

"No, you stop it! This isn't goodbye. I'll be there when you wake up, through every breath you take and every moment you cherish. Mom and dad need you, its too late for me but it isn't for you. We have to accept that. There is no one else I'd rather be with them until the end of their days. I am sorry that weight will fall on you alone, but it has to be you."

Somehow in the midst of this sorrow I began to feel more peace. I stepped farther, feeling her presence to fade like the last rays of sunlight. I knew it meant she embraced that truth, yet felt guilt I'd make her face the rest of her life alone, without her sister. I was her anchor her whole life. I did things for her no elder sister would do. But I couldn't let her stay here if there was a chance she could outlive this.

Holding her hand as her fingers slipped though mine I felt the pull of time, of life, taking her back where she belonged in. A world I could no longer stay in.

This was my chance to help her, my family, to move on, so I could too. "I'll see you again," I whispered, as she was already slipping away, her form fading, her essence returning to where it was meant to be.

As she finally disappeared, I was filled with a calm I hadn't felt in so long. Everything I carried with me before all seemed so small when facing eternity on the other side of the unknown. There was no pain now, no fear. Only a quiet understanding. This was what it meant to let go—not to lose, but release.

I felt myself drifting further into the unknown, but with each passing second, I knew I'd be at peace. I stayed in this plane because I had to help her, and now that I fulfilled that purpose, I had a new one.

Staring at a sudden beam of bright light, no longer feeling her hand in mine, I knew I would always carry her with me, I'd always be, just as she would carry me—beyond the horizon, beyond this life, into whatever waited on the other side.