Sweat trickled down my face as I turned to look around me. All I could see was blurry white shapes, lifeless, and still. My heart was beating unsteadily, my head was pounding, and the air was tingling around my numb body. Where was I? Who am I? All the unanswered questions spiraled within my cramped head. But it didn’t matter now; all that mattered was what was happening. It seemed I didn’t belong here, and was supposed to be gone – forever gone from reality. I could remember the faint whispers of yesterday that now seemed surreal and so distant, and I could just vaguely see myself. Was I strangled in an intertwining branch? Well, that was how I felt.

Just simply taking a step forward pained me while echoes of my timeworn clock given by my grandpa for my 16^th birthday, (precisely over a year ago) haunted me, hissing out that time was ticking away, taunting me. I stood still, as I heard the descent in my breathing, my hopeless spirit trying to revive and to get back into its normal state. I tried to stand still without falling drowsily into paralysis, though I was eager to feel an essence of life pounding around me. I told myself that this was permanent; I would be like this forever. I felt hopeless, ambitionless, and useless – like a ruffled piece of snagged cloth, dumped on an isolated winter’s street.

Even through my blurred eyes enclosing me from reality, I could imagine myself: white, cold, coarse face, and dry chestnut brown hair hanging down loosely. Gradually my vision went into focus. Now and then I could smell the queer scent of acidic lemon, and acrid bitterness nearby. I looked beside me at an object resembling a white stone table with a black dangling bristly strap, as I felt coldness shiver up my spine from my toes, whizzing to my head. I stared at what was around me, astounded, for what was before my innocent eyes were thousands of similar stone tables, and on them was something unexplainable, absolutely cruel, an unpleasant sight. I gasped as I caught a glimpse of thousands of pale, dead people, and one table particularly caught my attention; on it rested a man with my brother’s features. “Sam?” My eyes began to water as I saw his white expressionless face, still and motionless. The wind through the cracked beveled windows gushed through, chilled me to the bones, sharing my anger, pain, and grief. Examining the body thoroughly, I begged that all would be a nightmare. Please wake up. Please. Unconsciously, I pinched myself, realizing as blood seeped through. Praying all this would end, I looked closely to a flapping post-it note taped to the side of my brother’s head. It read:

“Inject Sam Rodger with vial X.V at 5:00 pm, prior to injecting his brother James.”

The writing looked rushed and slanted, and I gazed at it, astonished. I asked myself if I was supposed to be injected just like my late brother, except I had been given the wrong amount of poison. Looking at my brother’s grey immobile eyes and sallow face, I experienced a flashback of our times together. It was the little things taken for granted that stood out to me, and I swore to myself that these memories would be cherished till I faced death. The sweet, serene memory faded and I continued to stare at his ruffled dull hair, no longer lustrous and golden.

On and on I walked, creeping towards a brown, old-fashioned door, where I saw a long anticipated strong ray of sunlight. Remembering that I was in the corridor, I walked faster and faster. Finally, I reached the grey handle covered with several scratch marks, and ignored it until I realized that these scratches were signatures of all the doctors who were forced to work here until their own lives were stolen. I inspected it when I caught a sight of something shiny above me. Looking up nervously, I saw packets of syringes jutting from the cracked ceiling, and shocked, I rushed out of the corridor immediately, avoiding the worst that could happen. Panting, I turned around to view everything behind me, and found a chaotic mess; towers collapsed, bridges broken, dust and pollution making me feel nauseous. Was I hallucinating? The thought of all the destruction and damage to our world shattered me to pieces, and I fell in agony, onto my bruised, scraped knees. A scatter of litter was everywhere and I could smell nothing but dust, and the same acrid odor of bitterness in the corridor. Frantic, I looked to the side, unable to make sense of the world around me. As I tried to escape from hell, I tripped upon a body, and recognized him as my friend. I buried my face into my hands as tears ran down my cheeks, when a flood of emotions filled me – we were the cause to all this. The doctors have put the poison into our innocent bodies for they knew; they were aware that we must sooner or later face death in an excruciating way. Sobbing heavily as I never did before, I cried, mourning as only the clouds watched me face all this terror, inevitable since the beginning of time. “Why?” I shrieked into the vigilant sky, “Why?” Wiping away tears, I told myself that I should not waste any more for this dreadful world. Lying on my skeletal stomach, I murmured to myself as the breeze blew dust into my drained eyes. Somewhere in the distance I could hear a bit of life whining out to me. “I’m the last one”, I told myself, shaking my head. Panting, I got up and walked further on as I rubbed my watery eyes and moaned once more. Maybe I can’t cheat death, but until it comes, I can make the most of time. Softly I muttered to myself, “This is the new beginning.”