Beginning Again | Jacob Black

Death and Nothing

I can teach you a lot about death. Or at least a lot about my death. What would you like to know? 

Well, for one death itself does not hurt. No, what hurts is the before. The moment before you take your last breath is painful. After there is nothing, at least not for a while. 

May day didn't start out like this, full of death and destruction. No, it was a little chaotic, sure, but ultimately it was normal. I woke up at the same time that I did everyday, I dressed in my normal clothes, and I went to my normal school. Nothing was out of the ordinary. That is until it was. 

It was the third of March, a Tuesday; I had just gotten out of my last class for the day and I was headed home. Driving down the highway was something that I had always been comfortable with; maybe that was because it was the same street that my dad taught me how to drive on, or maybe it was because typically at this particular time there was very little traffic. The highway itself was thin, only having two lanes with the occasional turning lane; it was old and the asphalt was cracked every few feet. This was the fastest way home that I knew of, so this is the road that I always took.

This particular Tuesday, I sat behind a truck. If I had to guess I would say that it was some sort of farming truck; it was big and tall and had some type of birds in the back, chickens maybe. While I was busy trying to decipher what type of feathered creature was in front of me, which I really didn't care about but I had several more miles to go, I did not pay attention to what was actually happening. If I had, I probably would have slowed down. 

To my right, a large animal had dashed out of the tree line and onto the road. There was no time for me to stop, but that thought did not cross my mind. I slammed on the brakes and swerved to avoid hitting the animal. In hindsight, I probably should have swerved to the right instead of to the left and into oncoming traffic. 

If I had the ability of foresight, instead of hindsight, maybe I wouldn't be in the situation that I am now. Before I could even begin to accelerate and get back into my lane, my car was hit. It was hit by something really big and really heavy. I don't think that this really big and heavy something barrelled into me and threw me off the road. It felt like this thing plowed right over me. 

Everything was dark and what could be heard was masked by the ringing in my ears. I couldn't move; I wasn't sure if I was trapped or if there was nothing to move. I'm pretty sure I started, but I couldn't hear my sobs or feel the tears on my cheek. All I knew was that it hurt. I felt like I was being sucked through two vacuums, both pulling me in two separate directions.  

It hurt for what felt like hours. Hours and hours of stabbing pain over every inch of my body. Every second I thought that the pain couldn't get any worse, but it did, every second was worse than the last. Until, the pain stopped and a sort of warmth came over me. Everything got warmer and warmer; it got so warm that it was uncomfortable and I feared that, if my injuries weren't so bad already, I would have severe burns and blisters. 

Then, after all of that pain, there was nothing. Nothing at all. No pain, no ringing in my ears, and nothing to see. 

Everything around me was white, and when I say everything around me was white, I don't mean that I was in a room with white walls and white furniture. I mean that there was nothing around me besides some sort opaque white nothing. I was grateful that it wasn't the oppressing black nothing like before, it was more peaceful now. However, the white nothing was just as unsettling. 

I began to cry again, except this time it was out of fear instead of pain. There was no sound coming from me, it was like the white nothing was was so thick that sound could not pass through it, the only way that I actually knew I was crying was because the shaking of my body. And my body, my body was a different story. I could feel the jerks it made with each sob, but I could not actually feel my arms that were wrapped around me, or my legs that stood on the nothing, or my hair that always tickled my neck. I felt nothing. 

I spent days in the nothing. Or at least I think I did. After all, how would I know? I couldn't see anything besides my body and the nothing. I couldn't hear anything. So there was no real way of knowing how long I had been here. I could have been minutes, hours, or days. All I knew is that I didn't want to be here anymore, but I also didn't want to be in pain like before either. I suppose I wanted to start over. My lip trembled, but I tightened my jaw and a slammed my eyes closed, I didn't want to cry anymore. 

When I was finally in control of myself again, I opened my eyes. A gasp left my lips, one that I could actually hear this time, in front of me was a ceiling. I quickly looked around me to see if there was more to see. To my joy there was. There was a desk and computer, a dresser, a nightstand, and a door. Everything had color and a defined shape. I also realized that I could feel too, I could feel my muscles working to move each body part, I could feel my hair tickling my neck, and I could feel a thick, soft, blanket underneath me. 

I wasn't sure where I was. I knew that I wasn't in my room, or any room that I've been in before. I also seriously doubted that I was in a hospital. One thing that I was sure of though, I was no longer in the nothing.