A Miracle of God

-The day of the crash.-

I had heard my neck snap. I felt my existence cease; I felt my heart falter and stop. No matter how many scientists tell you that you aren't conscious when you die, don't believe them. The truth is, no one knows how death feels until they've experienced it themselves.

Dying is a lot like sleeping, but less relaxing. In the beginning, there's an unbearable, terrifying pain as your body struggles to stay alive, but quickly realizes there's no use. Once your body accepts that there's no possible way you're surviving this encounter, it starts to shut down. Your organs fail; your heart slows. You better hope that when you die, your bladder is empty, because I promise you will pee yourself when your organs shut down on you. It's an embarrassing, agonizing process that only takes minutes, but feels like a lifetime.

After that, your nerves quit processing any pain, and you feel yourself slipping away. That's the fun part. For a moment you feel high, like a careful overdose. Your body tingles, and your soul feels like it's floating.

Then comes the dark.

A dreamless sleep until you wake up again. Most people wake up in whatever afterlife they've made their way to, but not me and Oliver. We woke up in the hospital.

The doctors were all amazed by our state. There was clear evidence my head had hit a tree trunk, but how was my neck not broken? Well, it had been; it just wasn't by the time the ambulance arrived.

The wheel had completely rolled over Oliver, and yet, he was only unconscious and bleeding with hardly any broken bones. A true miracle of God!

If that's what you want to call it.

I wish I knew why we didn't die that day, and I wish I knew why we still can't die since. A never-ending sleep sounds peaceful, but a never-ending pattern of dying takes the hype away.

If I die, it could be hours or minutes before I come back to life, depending on how mangled I am. When I broke my neck and smashed my skull against a tree, it only took twenty-four hours to fully recover. However, Oliver's crushed body took days.

Some would consider us gifted; the lovely couple who can defeat death over and over again. But most people aren't sick, like Oliver.

I was terrified that I couldn't die. I still am. In fact, not to sound suicidal, but I want to die one day. Dying is a part of life. When someone wins a race with death himself, it's not only impossible, but unnatural. You're supposed to end up six feet underground; everyone is. I feel I've been cheated of that too many times.

Oliver, however, is thrilled by the idea of being invincible. He can die, but he will come back crazier than ever. That's why he created The Game.

The Game is a nasty form of entertainment for Oliver. It's a demented sort of tag, ending only in death. This round had been Oliver's turn to be It. He chased me, hunted me, and killed me. If I had killed him first while he was still It, the game would have ended as me a victor. But if he kills me, the game continues and it's my turn to be It. If he kills me before I kill him while I'm It, he's the winner. I have never won The Game.

Call our ability a Godsend if you want, but I've never once felt that way.

In truth, I have no idea if Oliver and I are a miracle or something straight from the pit of hell.