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A Fate Worse Than Death

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It only took seconds. Three, to be exact. I remember them perfectly. Every nanosecond, in perfect detail. Such terrible detail.

I remember the sounds.

Oh, how I loathe the sounds. I remember the sounds of her screams, the sounds of her bones being crushed and snapped. I could hear the rest of my family. Their insufferable screaming, the unending screeching of my siblings. I remember the snapping of my bones. I remember the incessant screaming, the screeching metallic tear of twisted steel and car horns. Funny, the sound of a spine snapping, how all it takes to destroy a life is to tear a tiny bit of flesh. Funny, how that little scrap of skin is all that stands between survival and death.

I remember the smell.

It smelled like gas, fire and blood.

I remember the taste.

The taste of blood, sweat, oil and metal is mortifying, words cannot describe the evil of this combination.

I could feel my life fading. I could feel my body crumbling. I could tell my time was up.

I greeted my end with open arms, in my fading moments.

How sad, though, that I was brought back from the brink of death. How sad, how I've been lying here since, festering in my misery. Stripped of every shred of dignity I've ever had. Every shred of humanity I've ever needed. I lay alone, trapped in thought. My mind will not rest. It will not stop. Imprisoned in knowledge. I used to think that was all I wanted, solitude and peace. Time to think, to be alone with my thoughts and mind. I did not want this. I do not need this. But I've no way out.

I sit alone, in the hospital to which my care was charged. Isolated from everything I ever had, everyone I ever knew. I've had decades to think, all alone. I've become a grand philosopher. I know why we're here. I know what we are meant for.

How cruel, fate is.

I know all the answers, yet, I cannot speak.

I cannot move.

I cannot scream.

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