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Flatline.
That's where we are all going to end it. At flatline.
At that point, nothing matters besides the fact that the things you once took for granted would disappear into thin air. Everything you once harboured closely won't matter anymore. Your mother that always tucked you in until you reached the age of eight won't matter anymore. Your father that suddenly disappeared from your life by the time your bra finally started fitting neatly won't matter anymore. That one best friend you've had since the age of six who took the big slide with you when you were too afraid to go alone won't matter anymore, and that handsome boy you've had a crush on since forever won't either. Everything seemingly fades into the shell of what it once used to be, and no matter the damage you leave behind, you won't know of it. Everything goes black, and in the end, I think that's what makes us connected to one another.
Numbness.
The fact that we all start our lives in the womb of our biological mothers, and end up in a coffin six feet underground. Whether you were skinny or ample, if you were tall or short, or were of different colours, nothing would distinguish you from me. None other than anthropologists could make out the difference between us. In fact, once you're down under, no one beside the souls you have touched will keep remembering you. Because apparently, life moves on. And life expects you to do exactly the same.
It didn't feel like life was moving on yet.
Numbness.
My feet were cemented into the asphalt, making me physically unable to move any part of my lower body. I could scramble, hell, I could beg. It didn't change the despair that was closing in on me at the speed of light. The world had officially come to an end where everything that had once sparked up feelings in me turned into a numbness that could paralyze an entire school. The supposed God was crying, and his tears were blending in with mine as they fell from oblivion.
Numbness.
A life was ending, while another continued.
Numbness.
How was that fair?
Numbness.
If you take one thing from one person, you can't let the another one keep it.
Numbness.
I didn't want it anymore.
Numbness.
Let me give it back.
Numbness.
Numbness.
Numbness.
Please. Let me give it back, please.
YOU ARE READING
FLATLINE
Teen Fiction*COMING SOON* Jenny Hastings was 17 and as broken as a 17-year-old girl could be. Standing on solid ground was something she had forgotten what felt like by the beginning of senior year, and the way she handled it was even worse. Enter Gavin Romeo...
