One Second Before Midnight

Rain falls silently against the large glass panel of the bus. I watch the drops blow
sideways, run together, and fly away.
It feels like I’m looking into the abyss.
An eternity has passed since the incident in the change room. I wasn’t fearful at the time; however, a slow terror has risen now that makes me want to hide.
It feels like everyone is watching me.
I think about drama class and Shakespeare, and the power I felt knowing that life was a stage. Now I wonder how this stage could possibly be my own?
I didn’t have time to feel frightened of that girl but I’m ashamed and confused at the realisation that I have no one to turn to.
I look at the younger kids seated at the front of the bus. Some are chatting and colourful – the way young people are meant to be. Others are alone, just like me. The desire to rally them becomes overwhelming. I want to stand up and shout. To show them I’m alive. To feel alive. But the fact that I remain seated only solidifies the crush.
Why does it hurt to be young?
I realise that the bus has stopped and faces are walking past the familiar place outside. It’s my stop. Standing, I heave my bag, but it’s wedged under the seat in front. I yank it and it flings me into the world. I land in a puddle, cold wet shoes.
Up ahead is a senior I’ve seen around. He’s tall and wears headphones and hands in pockets. Something about his aloof attitude draws me close by and I drift on the edge of the busy highway. I can smell his orange lollipop. I feel comfortable standing in his space. I am vaguely aware of the world all around. I am standing in a crowd, the bleak grey sky, the zooming colours and the water splashing on the road at my feet.
We cross the two northbound lanes together. He’s a funny guy. He smiles at me sideways, then steps off the medium strip and crosses the southbound lanes to home. I drift after without thinking.
Then my situation hits, but it’s far too late. I’ve stepped onto the highway without looking. I’m standing in the oncoming traffic as it hurtles up. My mind begins to race. It’s not far to the median strip but the car is so close, I cannot possibly make it. My only hope is to run to the other side.
I move suddenly. I target the verge but colour fills my peripheral and I hear the scream of brakes. I cannot help but turn. The driver, arms locked, body pressed back into the seat, her face is a study of absolute terror.

Then a distant clump and silence.

There is only white.

Profound relief and a sense of home.

Then light forms texture, like cloud.

There are shapes in the texture.

A presence.

I know them. One approaches me and speaks.

You cannot stay here…
You must go…

I can make out the shape of his form in the white light. He reaches past me with a clenched hand, then flicks out his forefinger and thumb. In the distance a tiny perfect circle of darkness appears. I watch with curiosity and notice that the edges of that darkness are spinning, the light is drawn to the infinite fold without light. I cannot look away as it grows towards me.
I’m filled with sudden dread.
I notice particles of my own colour being pulled away from my forearms, my fingers, my face and into the darkness. I raise my hands to shield my face from the dark tunnel. I hear my own shattering scream as I’m pulled into the void.
My eyes open and I see the backs of my hands and beyond them a million tiny pieces of dark jagged rock. I recognize the surface of the road. My hands do little to break the blow. I land heavily and skid across the gravel on my face.
For a moment all I can hear is silence, then a strange crunching and the murmur of excited voices. I sense them all around and the impossible need to regain composure overrides my fall. I flip onto my back, but I cannot rise. My leg is bent sideways. There is
a lot of blood.
Through bloody matted hair I can barely make out the boy with the lollipop standing over me. He pulls it out with a pop and grins.
‘You flew.’ he says.
I cannot comprehend it.
All I know is that I cannot go home.