I'm blind.
Consumed by a blackness that seems to reach the unfathomable corners of the Earth.
I am injured.
But i can't feel the pain.
I am not alone.
But my companion is dead.
But then- i'm Bounced.


2. Home.

            The world was no longer a blur, the air no longer a storm about me, but calm. Silent. I rolled onto my side and groaned, unwilling to see the world around for fear of what it might bring. Through my narrowed eyes, I saw the familiar knots in the floorboards that I had landed on.

            A door nearby opened, and my I glanced up to see a young couple before me, glowing expressions permeating their features, a bundle of blankets in the arms of the man.

            My parents.

            “You should go and get some sleep,” dad said, wrapping his arm around my mother’s waist, as if he didn’t really want to let her go.

            “I don’t think I could stand to be away from her,” mum whispered, and took the bundle from my father’s arms. A small, chubby arm rose from the fabric, and the baby within made sweet, incoherent noises. I choked. The air was too thick to breath.

            I whispered their names, the names of my parents, but they didn’t hear. They didn’t see as leaned my blood-stained face into their line of sight, and they did not feel as I touched their cheeks, and wept for my family.

            I looked into the bright blue eyes of the child before me, so innocent, so uncomprehending. If it had known the fate that even I could not remember; those eyes would have been dull, like stones. The more I stared into that purity, that innocence that had been stolen from me, the more that this paradox disgusted me, revolted me. That I should be put through this seemed wrong.

            “What’s going on?” I shouted; a noise that seemed to shake the building to its core. There was no voice in the breeze this time, and I found that I could no longer bear to be in the presence of my parents and me, a me that was full of life and love to give. I ran, somehow ended up alone in the dining room, gazing in horror at the gilded mirror that adorned our wall. One that mother had bought from the local charity shop.

            I had no reflection.

            I stood in front of it, and inch away, and the vibrations of my exclamation seemed to reverberate through my extremities as I pressed my forehead against the glass, then the palm of my hand, expecting at least a stain of crimson to signify my existence, but there was none.

            I repeated myself. I shouted; I banged on the walls despite knowing that there was no one here to save me. I grappled my own hair life a life line and cursed the invisible voice until it answered.

            “You’re not dead,” she said, a woman, definitely. Again I spun to find the source; it seemed to come from all around. The room shook, the vibrations worsening until the pictures on the walls began to topple and smash. The mirror cracked as I faced it and for the smallest frame of time I could have sworn that I saw someone in there, someone that wasn’t me.

            “What do you mean?” I shouted, over and above the commotion. The world was disintegrating around me and I backed up against the wall.

            “But you’re not alive either.”

            The entire house had crumbled and fallen to my feet; the sky itself was boiling and falling; dying.

            “Are you ready to Bounce?” the voice asked. I wasn’t ready, not to be dragged again, to be thrown like a rag doll into another limbo, between life and death, but this world had come to an end, and I heard the sound of a baby’s cry as I was Bounced.

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