The Morbidity of a Firecracker

Chapter 1: "The Sound of Fireworks"

     It was dark.

     There was nothing no matter where he looked, and the feeling of fuzziness never left his chest from the moment he got there, roaming around his neck and down to his arms. It was like sleeping and being conscious at the same time, ears ringing from silence. Occasionally, he would hear droplets of water dripping, but everything else was silence. There was nothing around, not anywhere, but there he was, in the middle of nowhere. The tip-tapping of his shoes echoed all over the place like he was walking inside of an unending, empty black box.

     He continued to stroll towards the darkness, feeling the floor sway. One more step, then another, then another, and another, until the floor started to become water. Still he kept walking, destination unknown. Similar to a walk on the beach, subtracting the sand and the beautiful skies, walking towards the water instead of beside it on the dry shore.

     There was a tug under his ribs. Like a series of strings pulling him to do something he didn't know what.

     The water rose up to his knees, yet he didn't panic. His feet still moved, walking nonchalantly, as if his entire human survival instincts were ripped away from him; like he was on a calming morning stroll. The water climbed to his hip, then to his shoulders, then his chin. Still, he looked straight into a non-existing horizon until his entire body was submerged in water.

     He sunk slowly, catching a glimpse of colourful lights that seemed to flicker in the sky. He blinked in realization—was he drowning? He flailed his arms immediately, swimming towards the popping noises the lights made, until he reached the surface.

     He gasped for air once he opened his eyes, taking in a breath he didn't know he was holding. There he was, standing in the park, dry and standing on the grass, his breath heaving. He spun around in panic, seeing crowds of people that gathered around to see the fireworks. He winced at the noise, continuing to spin around in circles to look for a familiar face. He felt a panic-attack soaring to his throat.

     A gripping hand to the shoulder sent him to a jolting stop.

"Are you okay?" A man said to him in a worried tone.

     He couldn't recognize who it was. His vision was blurry and by the sound of it, his hearing started to blur too. He nodded and backed away, trying to get a better angle to see the stranger's face. He squinted his eyes, feeling the migraine rise up to his head. Then, his eyes widened as he felt his stomach leave his body, stepping into nothing. The last thing he saw was the man reaching out to grab him before he fell backwards into nothingness.

• • •

     Raphael could hear things. His eyes were closed, but awake, nonetheless. The air smelled like rubbing alcohol and freshly mattresses. He felt his head throb and his eyes strained against the light as he opened them slowly.

     There were people talking. Raph saw a silhouette sitting on a chair near the big hospital window, talking to someone over the phone. The noises became clearer the more conscious he got. He looked around, subtly listening in to whatever conversation his dad was having. He groaned, feeling a slight pain from behind his head and pressure against his leg and elbow.

"-No, pa, you can't visit him right now," His dad said, in a calm but tired voice before pausing to listen again. "He doesn't need your incessant rambling today, okay? He's tired." Raph's dad turned around to check on him, realising that he's awake, immediately tries to end the call. "I'll call you again," He sighed with no intention to actually call again. "Raph!" His father rushed to him and grabbed his hand as he sat on the chair beside him. "How do you feel?" He asked worriedly.