Death. It's a curious thing. It's the realest thing ever known on earth. No matter how far you run or for how long, it will eventually catch up to you.
And always, when people think about their own death they imagine lying on a hospital bed, wrinkles covering their aged old skin, their loved ones surrounding them, and a smile on their face because they lived a life worth living.
Well that was what I imagined at least.
But as I laid there, in the back seat of Mason's car while he swerved through traffic, I knew that dream was just that . . . a dream. I wouldn't live to see another day, I wouldn't grow old, I wouldn't have any loved ones surround me as I took my last breaths. I was going to die before I could even live and in the back seat of a druggie's car much less.
My lungs weren't working, my eye lids wouldn't open, and everything felt foggy but clear all at once. I felt like I was running a marathon, my heart beating out of control in my chest, but at the same time I felt like every other organ in my body refused to work.
"Shit, shit, shit," cried Mason, hitting his hands against the steering wheel. "Bash, can you hear me?"
I couldn't open my lips, not even to utter a syllable.
"Bash," he screamed, in panic. "Talk to me!"
Slowly his voice grew quieter and quieter, I was falling farther and farther away from him.
"Are you dead? Oh fuck . . ."
I distantly felt my body shift onto hard ground. Even though I knew it was summer I felt cold, very cold. The last thing I remembered was the sound of my father's voice.
"Sebastian?"
...
I saw her, my mother, dressed in a white dress with auburn hair falling past her shoulders. She looked just as her picture did, just as beautiful.
"My boy," she said with tear brimmed eyes.
"Mom," I choked, staring amazed at the woman in front of me. She was dead, she was supposed to be dead. "How is this . . ."
A sad smile spread across her lips. "You've made a lot of bad choices dear that lead you here."
I looked around us, to see white, white, and more white. It was as if I was standing in a white room that went on forever.
"Is this . . . ? Am I . . .?"
"Dead," she asked. "Yes, son, you are."
"But," I said, tears seeping into my vision. "I'm only fifteen. My birthday is in two weeks. I can't die, not yet!"
She smiled softly, making her look even more beautiful. "Don't worry sweetie. I won't let you join me yet. There's so much you need to see, so many people you need to meet." She walked towards me and I was hit with a whiff of familiar fragrance. It's the same scent I smell whenever I'm alone in my bedroom, late at night, thinking about my Mom. "You're not needed up here yet. There's someone down there who needs you more than I do."
"Who?"
"You'll see," she said, reaching out to me with a soft pale hand. "I love you my son. Don't ever forget that." She brushed her fingers against my cheek, and I swear I could feel it, I could feel her.
Then she vanished.
"Mom," I yelled, spinning around trying to find the pretty angel again. "Mom," I screamed in panic, tears running down my face. "Please don't leave me again!"
"I'm sorry," said a deep voice.
"Who's there," I spun around, trying to find the owner of the voice. All I found was white, white, and white.
"Your son is lost," said the same voice. "Time of death, twelve thirty two."
"What," I asked confused.
"No," shouted a familiar voice. My father. "More morphine! Give him more morphine! You didn't give him enough!"
"Sir, we gave him enough already. I'm sorry, but he's dead."
"No," he shouted loudly, making my bones shiver beneath my skin. "I promised his Mom that he would grow up! He hasn't grown up yet!" For the first time in my life I could hear the sound of sorrow escape his lips. "Give him more morphine now!"
"Nurse, give me a shot of morphine."
"Sebastian," said my father's voice, "please come back. You need to come back."
Suddenly I felt a pain in my arm, a pain so intense I fell to my knees, screaming in agony. I felt like every atom of my body was exploding. I could feel myself fading away.
...
Sometime later I opened my eyes to a blinding light. It hurt to open my eyes, to breathe, to even think. I looked around the hospital room and knew that I wasn't dead anymore. I had crossed between two worlds and did it hurt like hell.
I looked over to see my Dad sitting beside my bed. His eyes were bloodshot red, his hair was in tangles, and his tie had disappeared.
With a stone cold look he said, "You're going to rehab." Then my father got up and walked out of my life for the next four years.
I watched as the door closed behind him. I felt the space he left behind, leaving me alone. But still, that could never hurt as bad as it did when my mother left me, again.
Look at this little thing I created!
Anywhooo
I was inspired so I decided to write a short little scene for you guys. I'm not going to do this often but maybe if you guys give me ideas on what scenes you want me to do in Bash's POV I'll do them and post them soon!
Also wouldn't it be cool if I rewrote the book so that Sadie and Bash didn't meet at the rock concert? Or maybe Bash was a completely different person? Or Sadie was? And how their story would play out then.
Idk I have random thoughts sometimes