They say when one confronts the grim reality of their own death, one's life flashes before their eyes. So, what does it mean when you see nothing?
It's been four hours since the accident, and before I was resuscitated back to life. But that moment before I realized where I wasin the unconscious wakefulnessI drew a blank.
In twenty-four hours I have a wedding, yet I saw nothing but a giant void for the whole of my life.
A rush of confusion circled around me as doctors sped me out of the emergency room.
"What do we got?" I overheard.
"Female discovered off the main road with high blood alcohol content in her system. Found in a two car collision."
"Any other survivors?"
"Barely," a doctor said as he took another glimpse at the medical chart in his hand. "A brother and sister were in the other car. They swerved into the left lane, that's what caused the accident."
They shuffled me into a room and lifted my body up onto a patient bed. A single bleary figure stood over me. For whatever reason, probably delirium, I reached out for the stranger's face. The contours of his face felt rough around the edges of his chin; he leaned down and nuzzled my neck.
"This is my fault," he uttered against my ear. "James and Abbey will be here soon."
"I was angry," I replied.
Casey took a breath.
"I let you take those keys away from me."
I pull away and turn after realizing Casey laid next to me.
"He can't know," I said looking down.
As Casey opens his mouth to respond. James charges through the patient wing door with Abbey on his heels.
"We got here as soon as we could." James rushed at me pushing Casey out of his way. "With only the main road, we passed right by the accident. Our car is totaled. Jigsawed into the other."
"I'm okay," I insisted.
My eyes follow Abbey as she embraces Casey, tight. He reluctantly reciprocates.
"I've held out too long, Nicole. This is some sort of sign, telling me I can't hold out anymore."