6 months ago...
There's a storm raging inside of me. A storm whose thunder beholds my dying heart, and a storm whose lightning charges and cackles louder and louder with each breath I strain to take. I thought I'd never open my eyes again, but when I do— to a red sky and to the roaring of rain, I realize that...I'm drowning; I'm drowning in a pool of my own blood.
Gasping, and choking, and coughing up the thick metallic substance that coerces its way up my throat...my head is spinning, reeling on a high that would soon be my last. There isn't enough air--there'd never be enough air; for I'd long been swept into the rising tide of uncertainty. And the monstrous waves of death keep crashing down on me, dragging me down only to yank me back up.
The blood: It gathers at the back of my mouth, staining my tongue and slipping past the cracks of my lips: And my eyes... they're flickering like the lens of a camera--only, I'm inside of it, the ghastly images of my surroundings only lasting a second before the darkness returns.
I'm trying so hard to stay conscious... to— move, to be anywhere but under the scrutiny of the sky that ruptures and shakes the streets with such animosity.
A starkly pigmented flash of lightning strikes down, threatening me as I squirm both in discomfort and agony. But I can't feel my limbs; all I feel is the rain— beating down on my face, filling my nose, stinging at my open wounds...carrying my blood in between the jarred lines of the pavement and onto the flooded streets.
I don't remember how I got here: at the side of a deserted backroad-- alone, trembling in trepidation, with tears streaming down my torn cheeks.
But I do remember the feeling of flying— of being tossed into the air...
The foreignness of my own voice, as a terror-stricken cry, bewitched my lips...
The paralyzing fear of hitting the surface...
Screaming, to the point of taciturn...
The haunting, distinctive sound of my own bones breaking, of my head thudding against the ground...
The gripping pain...
The shocking numbness...
The darkness that followed...
And now here I lay, transfixed by a reality that has done more than sweep me off my feet. I can't move. Straight jacketed by an indecisive demise and consequence, I find it hard to tie my words together, even in my mind. And my body— it's on fire, lit aflame by a brokenness that goes deeper than severed skin.
There's blood... everywhere. Pulsating from my lips, tattooing my skin, marking the leaves that surround me... and suddenly I become highly aware of my short intakes of breath, of the loud, fighting pound of my heart against my fractured chest.
I— I can't breathe...
Despairing white clouds push past my mouth only to hover over me.
I--I can't...breathe. The— there's blood—everywhere.
Breathe.
The smell of death snags at me with sharp, barred teeth. And, the blood-- God—the stench is—
--Help him! Oh, God, somebody help him! Somebody help him!" A strangled voice begs.
YOU ARE READING
Benevolence
Romance"A part of me has always wanted to be punished, to experience pain at its highest degree, and to be ripped apart in every way possible for surviving the crash. But I was stupid for not knowing the extent of that wish; for not knowing that pain isn't...
