Reborn to die again? Hell no!

SANDRA

“I'm just saying! It's probably just some con artist or something. Mediums aren't real; God doesn't just grant some people abilities,” I say, to Elena as I sink into the old, squicky, almost coming apart armchair.

“You're being nonchalant as usual; this is a serious matter! You might die tomorrow for all we know,” She says, obviously frustrated.

We had gone to see a fortune teller, and my fortune was quite the tragedy.

“I'm not going to die, so just give it a rest! Plus, it's late and you should go home.” I sound very dismissive, not wanting to talk about whatever she had to say.

Elena sighs and leaves, knowing it would take much more than her words or anyone else's to get me to budge.

I sigh as I sink deeper into the jagged chair, every movement causing the floorboard to creak as my weight shifts now and again.

I've always enjoyed my own company, the kind of girl who would rather spend my time face buried in one book or the other, letting thoughts wander, with the ifs and what-ifs of my imagination.

The room is deafening, with the constant tick-tocks of the annoying table clock and the cracking of the floorboard breaking the silence now and then.

“This is so boring,” I look at the clock for what feels like the 50th time and sigh.

6:57 p.m.

I picked up my old book, “Wisteria's Heroine”. It's so worn out from use that I can feel the broken spine with my thumb. Even in the dark, I know exactly how it feels in my hand. I don't need to see the cover to know which book it is; holding it is a comforting feeling.

I put on my old leather boots by the door. I've done this so often that it feels like a habit or a routine, not just getting ready to go out.

I unlock the heavy back door, and it makes a loud noise. The cold night air hits me, and I can smell rain coming.

As I walk on the gravel path, my footsteps sound very loud because everything else is quiet, and everyone is asleep. I know this path perfectly, so I walk past the bare birch tree and, through the hole, into the big, messy hedge without thinking.

My most favoured spot.

The railing of the bridge is made of cold, hard iron. I'm holding onto it tightly. The river below is huge, dark, and completely silent, looking like it goes on forever toward the ocean.

I hold my book, “Wisteria's Heroine”, close to me. It's familiar; a heavy feeling is the only thing that comforts me right now. I open it and start to read, using the story to distract myself from the scary, quiet, endless water below.

My thoughts drift from the book to the earlier conversation with Elena, “Does she believe in crap like that?” I shake my head, trying to get the thought out.

It is extremely quiet on the bridge. This isn't a normal quiet, but a heavy, deep silence. The only sound is the water gently hitting the bridge's supports below me.

All that exists right now is the cold railing I'm holding and the huge, dark water covered with reflections of stars. It looks like an empty blackness that is moving toward the ocean.

Then, I feel a sudden puff of warm air on my neck. It feels completely wrong on a cool night. I instantly sense that someone—or something-is right behind me, when there was nothing there a moment before.

My whole body freezes with a jolt of cold fear. But the fear is pointless because I already know that whatever it is, it's too close. I can't escape it now.

A pair of hands shoves hard between my shoulder blades.

Suddenly, I'm falling. My stomach feels like it's in my throat as my hands are ripped from the railing. My book, “Wisteria's Heroine”, is thrown from my grip. Its pages flap wildly as it falls.

For one terrifying moment, I'm weightless, surrounded by cold air.

The cold stings right through my jacket. A short, shocked gasp escapes my mouth—it's not even a full scream yet.

As I fall, the world seems to spin around me slowly. I see the cold, uncaring stars in the sky. I see the huge, dark water far below me, waiting to swallow me.

The only thing I can hear is the loud pounding of my own blood in my ears. I can't think. All I feel is a pure, animal fear of the huge empty space I'm falling through and the terrifying fact that I'm picking up speed.

Then the impact.

The freezing water hits me like a punch, knocking all the air out of my lungs. I gasp and accidentally breathe in river water.

The water isn't just cold, it's like black, freezing liquid that is incredibly dark and silent. My heavy boots pull me down deeper, making it impossible to swim up.

I panic and fight to get to the surface, but my waterlogged clothes are too heavy. My arms and legs feel useless and slow, like I can't control them.

The last bit of air in my lungs escapes as bubbles, floating up toward a surface that is now too far away to see.

Everything starts to go dark. The terrible cold doesn't hurt anymore; I just feel numb. The river's current pulls me away to wherever it is going.

The last things I am aware of are the muddy taste of the river bottom and a deep, quiet feeling of giving up.

My last thought “Cut short is the life that I foresee”