//------------------------------// // Everything Went Numb // Story: Everything Went Numb // by lolcatsmanseven //------------------------------// Slightly out of breath I stepped out of the gym and onto the dark streets. The cool night air stung my sweaty skin, in sharp contrast to the smothering feel of the sweaty air of inside. I knew I should have brought a coat with me, but I thought I wouldn't need it. I started walking faster, I wanted to get to my apartment, dry off and warm up. Dominic said to bring a coat, but no! 'I'm a badass,' I said. 'Coats are for sissies, like you.' I cursed my roommate, Dominic for being unable to convince me to bring a coat. I sighed, and hunched over to conserve heat. It didn't help as much as I had hoped it would. As I walked even faster, I began to shiver, until I pulled a shoulder muscle. Wow. I can't even shiver without pulling a muscle. Unbelievable. Maybe I should start going to the gym more than once a week. As I grumbled to myself about the cold I took a right down an barely lit alley; I usually didn't like alleys, especially of the dimly lit kind, but this one was a shortcut home. I reached into the waistband of my shorts, where the little pocket for my phone was sewn. I pulled it out, and checked the time on the too bright screen. It was 11:30 p.m. If I wanted to salvage my chemistry grade I would need to ace the final. If I got home soon I could take a couple hours to study stochiometry, which I definitely needed to. Lost in thought while my eyes adjusted to the still too bright screen, I didn't notice a dark silhouette leaning against a building until I was right next to it. Suddenly the shadow stepped out in front of me, the glint of a knife blade flashing in its hand. “I’ll be taking that phone now.” A squeaky voice boomed to me. I can’t believe this, I thought to myself. This punk thinks he can rob me. Me! Well, what he doesn’t know is that I’m a wrestler. Well, at least, I wrestle. Well, sometimes I wrestle. Awesome, I'm gonna kick the shit out of this little punk! “Alright, alright. No need to be hasty.” I calmly said to him as I slowly started to hand him my phone. He lowered his switchblade as he reached for his soon to be ill-gotten gains. Yes, that’s it. Drop your guard, just a little more… Now! Quick as lightning I dashed forwards, and planted my right knee between his legs. My right arm grabbed the back of his left knee, and my left arm tried to immobilize his knifehand. I planted my head in his chest, and shoved forwards with my entire body. He fell over backwards with me on top of him, his head slamming into the pavement. With my free left hand, I started pummeling his face and neck. What an idiot, picking a fight with me of all people, I thought to myself. Wait, wasn't I doing something with my left hand? My introspection was interrupted by the sound of my blood hitting the ground. Numbly, I rolled off of him as it seemed all my energy fled my body. My head involuntarily hit the ground. As I lay gasping tortured breathes through suddenly parched lips, I heard the punk's fleeing footsteps echoing down the alley. But that wasn't important to me. What was important was that I could see a thick layer of sticky redness beginning to coat the entirety of my chest! “Is this… is this my blood?” I slowly asked myself. Or at least I tried to. For some reason I couldn't make a sound aside from a chocked gurgling. I blindly stuck my arm out, grasping for anything to help me up, and I felt my hand hit something metal. I weakly pulled myself closer to a grimy trashcan, but I couldn't pull myself even to a sitting position. My head exploded in agony. I must have hit it very hard when I rolled off my attempted mugger. I weakly attempted to press my hand against my throat, or what was left of it. The task was made harder by my wavering vision and light headedness. I have to stop the bleeding! I desperately shouted in my head. The panic I was feeling from my mind felt out of place against the tranquility my body was telling me to feel. I ripped off my hat and pressed it firmly against the slash on my throat. Within seconds it had become completely soaked; it leaked blood all over my hand as if it was my hat that was bleeding, not me. Not good, not good at all. Things were starting to fade faster. No! No! I won’t go out like this! Not me! I promised them… I promised them that I would get all A’s next semester, and goddammit I keep my promises! I was starting to feel calm, and cold, when I felt a massive spark of rage ignite inside of me. The flames of anger spread throughout my body, until I could deny it no longer. I attempted to scream in fury, but again, I could only gurgle. I tried to hit something, anything to leave some sort of mark before I bled out, but all I could do was weakly bounce my fist against the unforgiving pavement. I started chuckling, or at least I tried to. Man, this is hilarious! Me, being taken out by some punk kid. What a joke! I mean, it isn’t a very funny joke, but a joke nonetheless. Limply, my hand dropped my blood soaked hat into the bloody grime besides me, my entire arm soon following it to the ground. My head felt even heavier, and I could no longer hold it up. I was losing energy, and I just didn’t care. My vision started to darken, and all it elicited from me was apathy. All that I had left was the pain from my head and my throat, and soon that too faded. Everything went numb. “Well hello there.” A smooth voice echoed throughout the inky blankness I found myself in. What happened? How did I get here? Wait, that hood! He... He cut my throat! Am I in some sort of hospital? I tried opening my eyes, but then I realized they were already open. Am I blind? “How… how did I survive?” I croaked in a hoarse voice, before realizing that before I passed out, I had been unable to talk. “You didn't.” The voice replied almost carelessly. “Yep, you’re dead. Now, normally I’d tell you that since you’re a good person or whatever I’ll give you another chance in another world. That's not the case here, but you died too young for you to make much of an impression either way. So, you can go to another world, however, you were almost that was a downright nasty cut on your throat, and I may be all-powerful but I am most certainly not God. So, suffice to say I will not be able to fully heal you. I know this is sudden, and I may sound insensitive, but let’s be honest here, you’re not my highest priority. So, in case I haven’t been clear, you have another shot at life, if you chose to accept it.” How, how is this possible? I should be dead! How can he say he'll give me another chance! You know what, just go with it. I can’t even begin to grasp my own death; so I’m just gonna go along with what he/she/it is saying. I know it’s not healthy to bury your emotions; eventually the realization of my untimely death will hit me like a ton of bricks, but not now. Just not now. “I’ll go.” “Now, this is the part where I usually say something cool sounding, but that’s just too much effort.” Suddenly I felt myself fading again, and the thought of yet another death terrified me. I tried desperately to cling to my fading consciousness, but I couldn't. I felt myself sinking, until I was gone. And the presence had already moved on. A bird chirping was the first thing I heard upon awakening, or rather, semi-awakening. How odd. I thought, normally I never hear any birds in the city. And stranger still they clearly weren't the crow and pigeons I was used to hearing. If I had to hazard a guess as to their species, I would say robins or blue jays (I’m not a bird person). You know, it’s actually pretty peaceful lying on my back with my eyes closed. Suddenly I remembered the events that had transpired just before I “died.” My throat! My throat should be cut. As soon as that thought seized me, I realized I could feel dried blood completely coating my face and chest. Hesitantly, I twitched my hand in a failed effort to bring it up to my face. As soon as I did, I noticed what my hand was limply resting on. Grass? But there isn't any grass near my apartment. Then how... how is my hand on it? As I pondered this revelation, I noticed my other hand was on hard dusty substance. I attempted to move my other hand, but the most I could do was raise it a few inches, then have it drop painfully onto the unforgiving ground. Great. Just Great. Here I am, somehow partly on the grass, and I can’t even move my arms a little. But what about the rest of my body? Starting with my feet, I tried moving anything I could. I never got more of a response than the one I had from my hands, which was greatly worrying. Desperately, I again attempted to move my right hand. This one was more responsive than the other one. I slowly brought it up to my chin, and then hesitantly probed the general area of my throat. Wha…What is this? I was stunned. If my memories hadn't failed me, there should be a gaping hole in my throat, but instead there was just a prodigious amount of dried blood! Somehow my wound must have closed over while I was unconscious. Well, maybe something is finally going my way, I thought as I dropped my hand back to the ground. Fatigue hit me like a freight train, and I realized I was too tired to keep think about my situation. With the realization that I was no longer bleeding out, I was content to simply rest in grass. That’s right, the grass! I’d better see what I’m lying on! I tried to open my eyes, but I simply couldn't. They were like lead weights; I knew I wouldn’t be seeing anytime soon. I started drifting in and out of consciousness. Well, this is bad. I thought. I’m helpless. What if someone with less-than-good intentions discovers me in this state? I hope no one sees me. Then again, it's a little late for hope isn't it? I guess it doesn't really matter if anyone does see me. Eventually, I started to get thirsty. Really thirsty. Scratch that, I hope someone finds me, and soon. I don’t know how much longer I can last. The dehydration steadily grew worse. My lips were cracked; my tongue was swollen. I’d lost all sense of time; I had no idea how long it had been since I’d woken up. Now, I’d never been religious, but this was a desperate time. I didn't pray, per se, I just started really hoping to God that someone would find me before it was too late. It appeared my desperate hope would not be answered. I felt like I was dying, and knew that I very well might be. The pain had slowly started returning, and had reached a point as to be nearly unbelievable. Well, if this is how it’s gonna end, it’s still better than if I’d been killed by that hood. My mind started to fog up even further. Even if I’d tried, I was unable to move any of my limbs at all. Huh, I guess I couldn't keep my promise after all. I mused. I was almost completely gone, but I was still able to hear clopping sounds approaching me. Is... is that a horse’s foot steps? Please be a person on it! “Oh no! Just look at this poor little baby!” A feminine voice called out from the directions of the noises. “Little baby? That thing’s almost as big as Big Mac!” A different, scratchier voice replied. Oh thank God, I knew you were listening! I thought. With the last of my strength, I almost smiled. People. I hope they help me. I was fading quickly, and could barely make out what the first one was saying. Not that I cared; as long as someone had found me I wasn't worried. “We’d better get him back to Ponyville so I can… OMYGOSH! Rainbow, do you see all the blood! Omygosh omygosh! Is it still breathing? Oh, poor, poor baby! Don’t worry, I’ll help you get all better.” I don’t know why, but I felt reassured. I was confidant the voice, whomever it belonged to, would help me. And then I was gone, again.