I can’t see anything. It’s so dark. I’m scared.
“Kyle?” I whimper. I can’t move. Everything hurts.
Everything is on fire. Literally, I think I’m on fire. I try to open my eyes to look for him. It’s bright and it hurts my eyes. They feel like they’re burning and everything looks red. Flames lick the side of the car; what’s left of the center console is melting onto my arm, fusing itself with my skin. It smells bad.
I can’t focus.
My heart is going a million miles a minute. I’m stuck. The door—is it the door?—shifts heavily, crushing my leg. I cry out. My eyes roll.
I can’t—
When I come around again, I’m too tired to care. I’m not on fire, but I know I’m going to die here. My ears are ringing.
Am I dead yet?
It’s black.
So this is what it feels like to die.
It's cold.
I shouldn't have worn this dress today. It’s fucking ruined. Stupid blood.
I guess I shouldn't swear while I’m…dying. God probably wouldn't like it much if that were the last thing I did. Is there a God? All I remember is the club. Kyle…angry.
I try to turn my head to the left, looking for him, but it hurts so much. It’s not moving—my neck. I can only see from the sides of my eyes. I've never seen so much blood. I think I’m screaming.
Bright lights. Not in a good way. There's this sound I can't place. I'm moving and everything hurts and I hate it.
It’s really cold.
"Stone? Can you hear me?" Yes. I can and I hate you. Whoever you are. Heaven should feel better than this. My whole body aches, from the tips of my crimson gel polished toes to the blinding red light pushing against my eyelids.
Maybe I'm in hell. I wouldn't be very surprised. High school catching up to me, or something. I try to move my fingers and I don’t think I can.
“She’s out, Julian. I pulled her out as her eyes were rolling back into her goddamn head.” That voice. That’s what I latch onto. That’s got to be the sound of heaven: So low, like a gravel road, and stronger than anything I’ve ever heard. Passionate.
My fingers twitch.
“Stone, that’s good, can you move those fingers for me again?” Julian? Fuck off. I don’t want to hear you. I don’t want to hear your voice in my heaven. Get out. I squeeze my eyes as they blaze red.
“Stone?” Yes. I’m here. “Stone, I know he sounds like a prat, but that’s only because he is. Listen to me, Stone. You have to do what he tells you. You’re going to be okay. You’ve gotta stay strong, okay?” Okay. I swing my arm out blindly, grabbing hold of something warm and hard. It’s the only thing I can feel right now that’s not attached to my own body.
“Sss—” Damn, is that me? It hurts. I think he smells like cookies. I haven’t had a cookie since seventh grade.
“Stone? Don’t talk right now. I’m here.” He squeezes my hand and I want to smile, I really do, but I can’t feel my face anymore. I’m being pricked and prodded with a thousand needles and I also really feel like crying right now.
“St—sssst—ay,” I manage. It feels like there’s a herd of swordfish swimming down my esophagus. Pod? I don’t know. I’m tired.
“I’m here,” he says. I think he’s an angel. A moment later, “Damn, her grip is strong.” A chuckle.
