First Step

As always, time moved so painfully slowly. Looking up at the white ceiling, I still had no idea just how long I had been lying here, waiting for the day when the white would turn to black. Yet, no matter how long I waited, it just seemed to never happen. 

*Beep*

I had never been particularly healthy, not even as a child, but that had never stopped me from dreaming. Dreams about becoming strong, following my father's footsteps into the world of boxing, and finally grabbing the belt for myself.

It had always been a pipe dream but that had never dissuaded me from trying my best.

Every morning I would run... or rather try to run. In reality, I often fell flat on my face, my body unable to carry its own weight for even a moderate amount of time.

The same thing could be said about weight training, as my body was just unable to produce enough force to lift anything in a gym.

Despite that, my father stayed by my side, always encouraging me while trying to lift my spirit whenever I failed.

*Beep*

Over and over he would tell me that I was doing well, that effort makes anything possible!

He acted as my coach, teaching me all kinds of techniques and skills that would help me develop as a boxer. Everything from a simple one-two combo consisting of a left-handed jab followed by a straight right, to footwork that would allow me to comfortably move around the ring. Naturally, I was never able to learn the things he had tried to teach me, as even though my head could understand what he was saying, my body just couldn't keep up.

Yet, my father kept pushing me, as he truly believed that effort trumped all.

However... he was wrong. And as he started to realize that he was wrong, the warm gaze that he had comforted me with started to change. Slowly but surely his eyes became more cold, jaded with the knowledge that I would never be able to make him proud.

He was never abusive, but sometimes I catch myself thinking that it might have been better if he had. Because at least then he would show that he felt something about me, even if that feeling was hate.

*Beep*

From then on, I got isolated. My mother had already passed away while giving birth to me, and I had never been able to make friends as I hadn't been able to keep up with anyone as a child. Something that hadn't gotten easier in my teens as everyone just thought I was pathetic.

Then, while I was at my lowest, thinking that things couldn't get worse, fate once again slapped me in my face. For one day, I could no longer get out of bed anymore. But that was still not as bad as seeing my father's face when talking to the doctor who diagnosed me.

'-He has a rare case of muscular dystrophy. We have consulted some experts at other hospitals but...'

'-I understand. I will pay for his treatment.'

His face had been emotionless like a statue, clearly showing just how little he cared about me after my continuous failures. But at that time I was still grateful that he decided to pay for the treatment, as I wouldn't have been surprised if he decided not to. 

*Beep*

After that, I had spent my days in this hospital bed, victim to a condition that only got worse for every day that passed. And now, I couldn't even speak anymore.

*Beep*

Not that I had anyone to talk to anyway. My father was the only person who came to see me, but he never spoke. He simply stood at the edge of the room and stared out the window.

And today was no different. Although I couldn't turn my head to look at him, I could somehow recognize his presence beside me, likely staring out the window once again.

*Beep. Beep.*

'Ah... is it finally time?'

A dark shadow had slowly started to emerge on the white ceiling, and I could feel my heart beat a little faster, a little harder, as if to say that it was preparing itself for the final sprint. A sprint that I had been waiting for with extreme anticipation. 

*Beep. Beep. Beep.*

Even now as my heart started speeding, everything felt so extremely slow. Each second stretched into a minute, which in turn stretched into an hour. I had no idea of how old I actually was, but if someone had asked me I would have no choice but to guess that the years had already stretched into the hundreds. Not because I logically believed so but because I had no way of contesting the emotional sensation of having lived through a life of slow-motion for most of my life. 

*Beep. Beep. Beep! Beep!*

I didn't want to die, and I don't think anyone truly does. But more than that I didn't want to keep living like this. So I didn't get anxious hearing the desperation of the machine continuing to escalate.

'Not that anyone would call a life like this living...'

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*

The machine at my side had gotten even louder and, although my hearing had decayed a lot these last few years, I could now hear it clear as day. It had also sped up to the point where even though it was a part of the slowed-down world around me, it had somehow managed to get pretty fast even to me. 

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*

Faster and faster it echoed out, as if to make sure to announce to the world that my departure was quickly closing in. Quite ironic, as the world had never cared about me when I was alive, so why would it care that I was about to die? 

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*

The shadows drew closer, slowly consuming the white ceiling above. As it did, I remembered the thing that my father had repeatedly told me was the most important skill in boxing.

'-You have good eyes, son. But as soon as you close those eyes, you have lost. So you must never close your eyes! Never! No matter what happens!'

I had always been aware that it was important to look at your opponent in boxing, but right in this moment I finally realized that it had another meaning as well. A very obvious one. 

As the final sliver of light went away, and I could somehow hear the sound of a bell signaling the end of the match, I felt something wet hit my forehead. For some reason it was incredibly comforting, but most of all...

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*

'Warm...'

"RAY!"

Then... the machine stopped and silence ensued, filling the room with nothing but a single grown man weeping while holding the body of the son he had lost. 

Unfortunately for me, I never got to hear my father's last words to me as I had already passed away. 

'What a shitty life... but at least it's over now. Now I can finally rest. I wonder if I will find Mother on this side? Not that I would remember what she looked like as I have only seen pictures of when she was young... and she would probably not recognize me either.'

...

'Huh?'

I was still surrounded by complete darkness, but I suddenly realized something. If I was dead, how could I still think about having died? Weirder still was that I could somehow make out that not only my mind but my body was also in this void-filled space, floating through the endlessness of what I assumed was the afterlife. 

Suddenly, a rumbling sound echoed around me, slowly but surely forming a somewhat bizarre-sounding voice. 

"- What an unfortunate soul you are."

Although the voice shook me to my very core, it was for some reason also extremely beautiful, a voice so impactful that even despite my best efforts, I couldn't answer it. Or maybe I couldn't answer because I was already dead. 

"- I can't promise you that your next life will be filled with joy, but I can at least promise you that you will have the ability to fight for happiness with your own strength."

'Next life? There is a next life...?'

That was all it took for a small spark to ignite inside of me, a flame that had disappeared a long time ago and with it an emotion that I hadn't had in what felt like an eternity. 

"- I pray that you can find what you have sought for so long, and with it, I pray that you find happiness."

So, with those words, I could sense that my consciousness was fading out and that I wasn't allowed to stay here for much longer. But that couldn't stop me from smiling widely, my non-existent face filled with a gigantic grin. 

'Another chance!'