If We Meet Again

Prologue: Between Life And Death

I'm dying.

No, literally. I'm not dying of embarrassment, hangover or because of listening to the song I hate most of all, even though I could really die while listening to "Despacito", because let's face it- it's bullshit. Totally overrated. But this is not the case here. Nor am I dying of laughter or, I don't know, of eating too much. Nope. I'm just REALLY dying.

My traitor heart, it seems, doesn't want to work for me anymore. It has written a resignation letter the moment a truck ran me over two days ago and now it wants to retire... that bastard!

It's leaving me halfway even though I'm just fucking 23. Why break up after such a long and beautiful relationship? Can't you cooperate with me some more? Do you suddenly have commitment issues of 23 freaking years?

I can imagine my heart turn its back to me, as I hear my heartbeat stop and the heart rate monitor let out its annoying sound, announcing my flatline. In distance I can here the doctor say "one more time" before pressing the electrodes of the defibrillator against my chest.

You know in those cheesy movies they make you believe that when dying your whole life passes in front of your eyes like a movie- the happy moments, the loving friends, your family, the love of your life... And that's what magically brings you back to life.

Want to know the truth? It's nonsense. It's a myth, because that's not what I see. I see all the pain I've been through while I was alive and alone, all the places I haven't had the chance to visit but always wanted to, all the food I would want to try if given the second chance to live, all the fireworks I would want to see one day, because when I was still alive, until the accident, when an asshole hit me with his stupid truck, I closed my eyes every time there was a firework. I mean whoever does that? That's right, ME! Because I'm a twat, BUT I WANT TO SEE THOSE FIREWORKS!

Okay no, it's because when I was a kid a sparkle of the firework going off in the sky fell down on my dress when I was watching a firework show with my second pair of adoptive parents and it almost set me on fire. Yes, it fell on me, out of  thousand people in the park.

Now that I think of it, I have always been in the center of a disaster. If someone dropped a book in Australia, it would fall on my head in America. If someone chewed a gum and threw it out of the window of his car, it would fly right into my hair... The latter, by the way, even happened once, that's why I had to cut my hair short when I was a freshman. I was also the only kid in the orphanage to be returned 6 times... 6 times!

What a tragic life, Birdie, really, I mentally give myself a reassuring pat.

I shouldn't even be surprised that I am here now at this goddamn hospital my whole body broken, trying to convince my heart to get back with me again. I should even consider thanking the driver for not killing me instantly and asking him if his car was damaged because of me. If so, I should really pay some cash for the damage.

Anyway, after the fireworks I see Venice because I was fucking supposed to go there this summer with my only friend Paula. I already had the tickets, for God's sake.

I start to mentally cry over that last picture of me riding a bicycle through the streets of my favorite city. Oh God, I don't want to miss it. I so don't want to miss it.

The doctor's voice brings me back to the reality.

"Now!" she shouts before trying again.

I'm silently praying for her not to give up on me. Come on, doc, you can pull this one off, can't you? Huh? Come on, bring me back to life. You are doing this all the time.

I'm still here, so save me. I am still here, come on. One more time, one more time. I'm still here, I'm still here, I'm still...

I open my eyes wide, coming up for air as if I was reborn.

Taking one deep breath after another I try to place my surroundings except up is the only way I can look. My whole body hurts as if I've been kicked for too many times and the only thing I can move are my eyes. I'm paralyzed.

It's nighttime, I can figure that much since I'm looking right at the dark sky with millions of stars above my head. The moon is shining brightly behind branches of millions of trees like a diamond trying to hide and remain untouched. I have never seen a moon so big and stars so bright.

Am I dead? Is this how Heaven looks like at night? Do they have nights in Heaven? Or wait... Am I in Hell?

I try to think if I were more of a good person or a bad one during my short life. Well, there is that one time I fed a homeless cat, I also did some volunteering for my CV to look good, but it doesn't matter why I did it, right? What matters is I drugged huge water tanks and potato sacks for a nursing home. I also gave my notes to my classmates all the time.

But I broke Taylor's foot in collage, punched Nina on the nose when we were fighting for Cole in high school. I insulted everyone I knew and spiced it up with my sarcasm and honest truth, which turns out is not always a wise thing to do.

I decide to stop my list there and just mentally call for Lucifer. Luci? Hello? You there?

I lie there not doing anything other than mentally calling out for someone, anyone honestly, because what's the point of doing anything else if I'm dead? Just what's the point of it all- this mess?

And then, like a bright shooting star in the middle of the night a guy hovers above me his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth in a thin line. I let out a short scream, because of the sudden way he has appeared.

"So you ARE alive..." He says with a deep voice and a hint of amusement in his eyes, making me furrow my brows back at him.

"Am I really?"