I clung to his shirt. I wasn't going to let go. My mind was perfectly at ease with dying some what in his arms. I was cold and stiff. The blood was sticky and pungent. The floor was cool and the gunman were freaking out. They were fighting. Fighting about how many people they've killed. Six already dead. My hearing was failing me but I did manage to scavenge parts of their broken sentences and make sense of them. But my mind was beginning to dull and my eyelids were starting to droop. There was no point in me trying to listen when I was sure I wasn't going to be able to tell anyone. In that moment a thought hit me. Why am I giving in? Why am I allowing myself to die? Cynthia and Quaid are both dead. Never coming back but they would come back from the dead if they knew I purposely gave up. My parents. What would my parents think?

Will my mother say it was fate that I was in that cafeteria? Would she say it was destiny for us all three to die together? I don't know what my mother would say but I hope it wasn't the latter. My father would wonder if I died peacefully and with out pain. I would be lying if I could say I did. This will shatter them. Send my mother into on of her panic attacks and my father into the bottle he set down thirteen years ago. And my brother …my brother wouldn't know what to tell his kids. My nieces and nephews will grow up with out their Aunt. They'd all live life without me because I gave in to Death. I let him claim me. Do I want to die? Yes, but is that only reason because they aren't going to be by my side anymore? Yes. Does that make my last moments even more unbearable to think about? Yes. Am I ready to die? I don't know how to answer this … Prom is around the corner. Graduation in four weeks. My first day of College in two months. And the rest of my life ahead of me spanning years if not decades. But once again my mind travels back to me living without them.

My mother once told me that just because something is familiar and permanent at that point in time it doesn't mean it's going to be there tomorrow. And they won't be here tomorrow. I won't hear his laugh. See her smile. Ever again. It seems like Death is taking his sweet time anyways. Three gunshots shatter the room and I gasp as three bodies hit the floor. Shouts of men and the sounds of feet. A lot of feet. Men in uniforms. Police. SWAT. They all check for survivors and when they roll Quaid off of me and see my hands still clenched onto his white shirt they call out.

"We've got one!"

I look up into weathered blue eyes and he smiles telling me everything will be alright.

"Don't worry. You're safe now."

That statement makes me cringe inside. I thought I was safe. I thought I was safe inside my school cafeteria.

I must've blacked out because when I wake up again I'm in an ambulance. Paramedics are all around me stemming the bleeding and cutting away at my shirt. My vision is blurred and their faces smear every time they move. Blobs of color and sounds. Loud voices that bleed into each other. Bleed. Blood. Bled. Bleeding. Am I still spitting out my blood? The pain is gone only to be replaced with a feeling of ….of…..

Darkness.

Darkness.

I must not be dead.

I would see the light if I was.

Yes, I would.

At least that's what they tell you.

It's funny how people who have never died before can tell you what to expect when you do die. What if it was nothing but a pitch black world of nothing? A world filled with no Golden Bridge or a place that holds an undying Fire? My mind is slipping away and a rush of nothingness washes over me as I slip down the path of a black world.

My eyes crack open but immediately shut when a bright light reaches them. I try again only to be met with the same light but my eyes adjust and they fly open. It's then that I see her leaning against the wall smiling at me. Her blonde curls and bright blue eyes alive and well. Someone blocks my view and I notice my mother smiling with a tear soaked face.

"Mcenzi, I love you so much," She whispers and plants a kiss on my forehead.

"Let me get your Father," She leaves quickly and my eyes plant themselves on Cynthia. She walks over the bed and plants herself in my mother's seat.

"Hey," I say with a raspy voice.

"Hey back. Don't talk too much. You're still recovering," She tells me." I'm glad you didn't die. I would've killed you if you left me," She says but her smile doesn't reach her eyes and reach for her. She pulls back and smiles apologetically.

"I don't want to touch you because I know I' wont let go and I don't think your parents would like that," She says.

"You're alive," Is all I have time to force out before my parents come crashing in to my room. My father is weeping and saying he knew I was going to pull through. My mother is holding onto my hand so tightly I'm sure I'd lose feeling in a few minutes.

"I was scared! They said you might be in a coma... but I knew my baby girl would pull through. She had too," My mother squeals as he plants another kiss on my forehead. They sit back and hold each other their eyes never leaving me.

"Tiffany let her breathe. She just woke up." My Father interrupts and I notice he seems aged and weathered just like the man who rescued me did. My eyes drift form my parents and take in all the flowers and cards and gifts.

"Are these all for me?" I croak out.

"Yes, sweetie. And some are for Cynthia," My mother replies her voice hitching.

Cynthia? Where did she go?

"Is she in a room close by?" I ask.

My parents freeze and look at each other.

"She was just talking to me. Why do I have her flowers when she was just talking to me?" I ask again. Ah, now I feel the pain. The pain was humming and shooting down and around my throat.

"Mcenzi you need to take it easy. You just had surgery." My father says.

"Where's Cynthia?" I ask again. And wince when the pain intensifies.

"Mcenzi Cynthia is dead,"

I stare back in disbelief. That can't be right. She was just here.

"What no-no she was just here…" But my voice gives out on me and wheezes to a halt. Hot tears are streaming down my face. My mother reaches for me but I recoil and gasp as pain shoots down my shoulder. I was shot there. And in my neck. She was shot in the head. It's all coming back all at the same time.

"Quaid?" I whisper hoarsely.

My fathers eyes drop then come back up and he's shaking his head no but I stare behind him.

She's standing right behind them leaning against the wall. A small smile on her lips. He is staring at me a torn expression etched across his perfect features as I cry and stutter.

"They were just here. They are here," but my voice is completely gone so now I'm just moving my lips to no sound.

They smile at me. They smiled at me. They are smiling at me.