David Gao, Period 1, 2/16/22

I blinked. But I didn’t, I couldn’t. Blots of darkness blocked my vision as I opened them for what felt like the first time in years. I saw a mess of red and black splotches; completely still but my vision was still blurry. I tried to look around but my eyes stayed locked in front of me. I strained my fingers, but they did not move. My arms were frozen, completely stuck in place. My legs were steeled in place, and yet I did not feel solid ground. As I regained feeling of my body I realized I was suspended. My body was locked high above the ground, me facing downwards. The feeling of falling did not subside but there I continued to stay, unmoving. The sun casted a shadow somewhere in front of me, longing to extend but moving no further. Regaining my composition after realizing I would not fall I focused on my surroundings. There were people gathered close, scattered all around the area, sitting, standing, recording? Many people’s arms were extended towards me, their phone screens capturing everything they saw. There were people covering their mouths almost as if in horror, people looking away, people crying and people running away from the area beneath me. Focusing on the center of my vision I saw splatters of red, surrounding what seemed like a painting of sorts. As my vision adjusted I was able to see all the red bordering the centerpiece. I saw fingers, arms, and legs, though they were not in quite the right positions. It seemed to be a girl, her hair was long and dark, like mine, though they were red at the scalp. Pavement stained with red, clothes soaked with red, body drenched in blood. She was sprawled out on the ground, she was dead. Her eyes stayed open until the end. They looked far off into the sky, imagining a place other than here. Did she regret it? The moment after the jump, the wind cutting at her, the plummet into the ground, the feeling of her body being twisted and mangled, the pain of still living for a moment after the impact, and the still nothingness that came after. Though my memory failed me she still seemed familiar, as if I had known her, or still know her. It felt like I recognized the way her hair fawned out around her like she was lying casually on a cool wooden floor. Her eyes were the same shade of teal blue as mine, her eyes that always seemed to be distant except for when she was looking at me. Her bracelet, the one that was also on my wrist, the one on which we promised to leave never the other alone. I felt warm tears flow down my face, the moist line it creates as it travels down my face, the tinge of saltiness when it drops into my mouth, the stress that makes my head hurt, the build up of a cry about to escape my throat, a cry of pain, of sadness, of fear, but no such sound escaped me. My face was completely dry, my eyes stayed fixed. There were no tears for me to taste, no ache in my head, no stabbing in my heart. My body held steadfast. My mind had given me a taste of humanity, but it was quickly locked away. The pain that I had felt was fake; a product of the humanity I had, but now there was nothing, no feeling. No pain, no fear, no sadness. There I stayed staring into her eyes, unable to look away, the one person I had cared about right below me, unable to look me back in the eye, so I waited. I waited for the moment when I would finally join her, the moment my pain would end, and time passed, or rather didn’t, but my existence continued. I continued to exist, on and on and on, forever and ever, and I stayed there, in the air unable to feel sad, unable to mourn, a simple fixed state of just being. Her painting before me, to be admired forever.