2. Fate's Desicion
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Darkness. That’s all there is. Nothing but entirely black darkness. But I open my eyes, and light replaces darkness.
I am looking up at a plain white ceiling. My eyes dart all over the place. I want to work out where I am. But all I see is more white, a bland colour. Only the very rare artwork prevents this from being so boring that it makes a snail’s trail appear interesting.
I observe that I am lying in a bed, yet unable to feel its softness, or hardness. Could this be Hell, Fate’s decision for my sin? No. Where are the devils that force you to do the last things you had ever wanted to do?
After another short moment, I realise where I am: a hospital. But… how can that be? It wasn’t me that got hit, it was her…
I decide to get up; work out exactly what’s going on. I look at the wall, and place my hand on it, but I can’t feel the texture of it. Perhaps it’s time to do a little bit of investigating my situation.
I take a flashback to that very night, however long ago it was. For some people, it would have happened in a flash, and they forget the incident the very next day. Not me. I remember it all. The sudden thud of hitting her, the sickening crunch of her falling to the edge of the road.
My memories are paused by footsteps. I look hard at the only entrance to the hospital ward, to see two doctors entering through. I talk to them. “Hello. Can you tell me why I’m here? And can you tell me what happened to the young girl?” This goes unanswered; they don’t even stop or look at me. How rude!
They start talking. “So, what exactly happened at Nightingale Street?”
Nightingale Street? That’s where it happened! I listen in closer to the conversation.
“The girl will live,” is the reply of the other doctor. “Susan Gantor. Eleven years of Hamilton. She was merely clipped by the car. Her injuries were life-threatening beforehand, but we’ve managed to bring her into a stable condition.”
Yes. She survived. I had been worried for a moment. I get ready to give my thanks to the doctor, but then he says something that makes me stop in my tracks.
“Not such good news for the driver, though. Johnny Becker, 19 years, from Dunkeld. After the hit-and-avoid, he hit a tree, and later died here in the hospital.”
Died? Impossible. I look at my hand, and notice that it is more transparent than it had been.
So it is true. I have died. This was Fate’s decision, and Fate has spoken. I accept this, and now I am ready to float to heaven.
Or Hell. Whichever Fate decides.