I forced my eyes open again and again, only to squeeze them shut each time as the pain tore through me. My whole body shook.
When I finally mustered the courage to try once more, the faint outlines I'd still been able to make out were gone. Everything had plunged into total darkness.
I ignored the searing agony in my eyes and kept trying, opening and closing them over and over.
No matter how many times I tried, there was nothing but black.
The last thread of resistance inside me snapped. My legs gave out and I crumpled to the ground.
A rough voice cut through the air：
“Are you blind? Standing in the middle of the road in broad daylight. You got a death wish or something? Move!”
A car horn blared right next to me, so loud my whole body locked up.
I scrambled to push myself off the ground, desperate to get to the side of the road.
But I couldn't tell which direction anything was anymore. I stumbled blindly, feet shuffling in no particular direction.
Before I could even steady myself, something massive slammed into me. Pain ripped through every inch of my body in a single, blinding instant.
Screams erupted around me：
“Someone got hit! Someone got hit!”
My mind went dim. Then dark. Then nothing at all.
When I opened my eyes again, I could see. Clearly. A traffic officer was stringing up caution tape along the roadside.
Joy surged through me. My eyes, they were better?
But the second I turned my head, I saw her. Me. Lying in a pool of blood on the asphalt.
The realization hit a beat too late. I was already dead.
I stood there, numb, watching the driver who'd hit me explain to the officer：
“It really wasn't my fault. She walked right into the road. I was driving normally.”
Several other drivers nearby chimed in：
“That's right. We all saw her wandering around in the middle of the street. Honestly, she might've done it on purpose for an insurance scam.”
“Yeah. There are cameras everywhere on this stretch. Just pull the footage.”
The officers pulled the surveillance footage soon after.
Every frame confirmed exactly what the witnesses had said.
I smiled bitterly. Dead was fine.
Dead meant I wouldn't have to suffer like this anymore. Dead meant I could see Grandma again.
Back in the living room, my mother kept glancing up at the clock on the wall, muttering：
“Your sister's been out forever. Why isn't she back yet?”
Gwendolen answered without looking up：
“She probably just wants to walk around. It's been a while since she's been back.”
My mother frowned, irritation tightening her face：
“She's the older sister and she can't even be considerate enough to come home for dinner? We're all sitting here waiting for her.”
Mid-sentence, her phone started buzzing nonstop. She picked it up. The neighborhood group chat was blowing up：
“Oh God, the scene was awful. Blood everywhere.”
“I know. They said she died on impact. Poor girl, she didn't even look twenty.”
My mother stared at her phone with a frown. Something about the messages seemed to remind her of how I hadn't shed a single tear when my father died in his accident. She let out a cold scoff：
“Forget about her. Let's eat.”
She had barely sat down when her phone rang again.
She answered. The voice on the other end carried a measured note of sympathy：
“Is this the mother of Thelma Hayward? Your daughter was involved in a traffic accident. I'm sorry to inform you that she has passed away.”
