Alive | Jasper Hale | Book 1

1. Waking Up

1. Waking Up

The beginning of my life started out dark. All I could see at first was the darkness. I knew I was alone, though, from hearing nothing but my own shallow breathing. Then as the minutes passed, my eyes adjusted-as well as they could-to the darkness. At first, I was confused as to why the space I was in was so tiny. Why would I be in a space just big enough for me to lie in?

The realization slowly came to me that the box I was laying in wasn't an ordinary box. From the musty smell and the cold, I realized that the box was in fact a coffin. A wooden box made for someone who was dead.

I was alive, and breathing-not dead. How could I be in a box for someone who was dead if I wasn't?

The air was musty and I began coughing. As I continued to lay there in wonder if anyone was going to realize that they made a mistake in me being dead. When the minutes passed agonizingly, I began to get worried.

Was no one going to realize I wasn't dead?

Coughing roughly, I pounded against the wood above me, screaming at the top of my lungs. I tried to scream loud enough to make sure they heard me, but no one came for a while. Screaming so loud, I ended making my throat ache and hoarse.

I whimpered, hours later, pounding weakly against the coffin.

"Someone... help... dying..."

The air was much thinner now, and I could tell I was running out of oxygen. Cause by death: buried alive and suffocation. If I had to choose my death, this wouldn't be anywhere on the list. I would have preferred to die a death that actually meant something. If my death meant making a stand in a revolution or in the place of someone I cared about, it was okay. Dying was all right then.

But six feet deep in a coffin?

Not even close to all right. Far from it, even.

"Help... dying..."

My words seemed feeble. It wasn't like someone was going to dig me up and save me. No, I was almost positive that this was how I was going to die. In a small coffin, buried alive. No one would even know apart from the people who've buried me.

As the oxygen became less and less available, I tried to keep my breathing short, even and low. If this was my death, then I was going to prolong it for as long as possible.

"If anyone can hear me," I began, a last attempt to safe my life, "Please save me. I'll die any moment now... Please... help..."

Just as I closed my eyes and readied myself for the suffocation, the sound of a heavy thud above me startled me. Light peaked through the cracks of the coffin as the thumps continued. Fear had stricken me frozen.

Could it be that someone heard my plea, even if I was six feet under ground? Had someone really heard my screaming?

My question was answered when the wood was torn apart, and dirt fell into my eyes. I squeezed them shut as someone pulled me out of the ground, lifting me into a pair of cold arms. I coughed and wheezed from the dirt getting into my mouth, letting myself be carried out of the coffin.

The first thing that hit me was that it was raining quite hard. Droplets of rain hit my face and I opened my eyes, blinking into the sky to see rain falling down in buckets. The skies were dark and cloudy, no signs that the rain was going to stop anytime soon.

In moments, I was soaking wet from head to toe. I didn't mind being soaked, though. It was quite a difference-that I preferred-from being dry in a coffin.

Then, a voice broke me out of my thoughts. Quiet and light with a slight southern drawl. "Ma'am, are you all right?"

For a moment, I was completely and utterly dazed at the beautiful person holding me. He had honey-blond hair that stopped just above his ears with golden, amber eyes that nearly matched his hair. From what I could tell, the man was muscular, but lean even in the face. The man carrying me was strikingly pale with dark shadows-purplish and bruise-like-under his eyes as if he hadn't had a good night's rest in a long while.