The End of the Beginning
TRIGGER WARNING! DETAILED CHARACTER DEATH IN WRITING. MENTIONS OF SUICIDE.
Eyes on the road, Vane. Eyes on the road. Just… don’t think about it. Don’t think about her. It’s over now. All of it. It’s all over. You ruined it all. You’re going to get her killed. You’re going to get yourself killed. No, no, she’s going to get you killed. This is her fault. She— what did she do? Why are you blaming her? Blame yourself. You left. You quit. This is all your fault. You left her to die. She’s going to die and it’s your fault.
But she’s —
what even WAS I to her? A friend? Coworker? Enemy? No, surely not an enemy. She didn’t hate me, did she? I really, really hope she didn’t hate me.
Eyes on the road. DON’T crash. She’ll hate you if you do.
She hates you anyway.
Do it.
Before the foundation does it for you.
Do it, Olivia.
Just kill yourself already.
No, no, nonononono, nonono, go back tomorrow, go back, go back and apologise, GO BACK. SURVIVE. Get back to her, you IDIOT.
Turn around now. Turn around. There’s a bend in the road here, turn around. TURN.
———————
It burns.
It hurts like nothing else has ever hurt before.
I feel sick.
I open my eyes.
I —
No I don’t. Not both of them, at least.
I can’t open my eye.
Am I crying?
There’s something wet on my face. I must be crying.
Where even am I..?
I’m alive, surely.
I raise my arms, testing.
Something snaps.
I look down.
My right hand. It’s… wrong. Something’s wrong, very wrong. It’s all bent and mangled… There’s something falling out? So much blood.
That’s what was on my face.
So I wasn’t crying!
I laugh.
For some reason I laugh.
Or, I try to laugh.
Some kind of.. hideous gargling sound comes out of my mouth. Something warm and red pours from my throat, my tongue, my nose and it hurts.
Everything hurts.
I’m tired.
I just want to… take five minutes, maybe ten, and just sleep away all the pain. Then after that I can save myself and… and save her. Yeah, that would be nice. But… isn’t that — doesn’t that mean I’m gonna die? I don’t want to die. Do I?
I always thought death would be warm, welcome. I thought I’d want it. I thought I’d die on my own terms.
Maybe this is my own terms. Maybe I’m happy dying like this.
But I’ve got people to get back to. People at home who would wake up to an empty bed. I need to be there. I’m going to say goodbye.
With my working hand, I open the car door.
I go to get up.
Nothing happens.
Nothing except searing agony. My legs. Why won’t they move? Please. Move. I need to get up. I need to get out.
I try again.
Nothing.
What do I DO? How can I go on like this?
I look to see what’s wrong.
It’s worse than I thought.
The tree I’d rammed into, something had loosened and fallen on me. Shattered, or.. crushed? the… whatever it’s called… and I think it took my legs with it.
If I just stayed here and waited, would anyone come?
Would they think I could be saved?
Probably not, with the state I’m in… how even am I alive? Must be, like.. God or something. Haha.. what a funny thought. God. Hey, God. If you are real, then… I don’t know. Save her, or something. Save me? Maybe?…
…
I’m an idiot, aren’t I?
Nobody’s coming.
Nobody is going to save me.
So I have to save myself, right?
I’ll save myself.
Watch me.
RIIIIIPPPPPPPPPP.
The sound that leaves me is unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. Some guttural and mangled kind of screaming, sobbing noise, a perfect soundtrack to what’s happening. A brief glimpse into the indescribable and incomparable experience of tearing muscle and tendon, of snapping bones and cords, of ripping from your being your own support, your anchor, your limbs. Of feeling yourself pull apart, becoming less than you were before.
Now I’m crying.
You would be too, wouldn’t you?
…She’d probably hate to see you like this.
She’d blame herself, wouldn’t she?
As she should. It’s all her fault.
Why should you go to get her?
What?
What am I… am I — alive?
What?
I can’t…
It’s all such a blur.
I get out of the car.
At least, I try to.
I’ve said that already, haven’t I?
Haha. Does it matter?
I think I’m gonna die.
My hands still work, right?
I attempt to grab the ground infront of me.
My hand hangs limply, and then after a second, with a noise like velcro, falls.
…
I’ve still got one hand, right?
But it won’t work…
There’s nothing wrong with it. It should move.
I just can’t seem to… gather the energy to move.
I’ve fought enough, right?
I’m allowed to give up.
…
So I give up.











