Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon so please refrain from suing me for writing fan fiction. Thanks and enjoy!
Remembering
I still remember the tone of the doctor's voice when he told my parents and brother it was over for me. He sounded totally hollow. Like all the emotion was sucked out of him. But that's not what makes me feel awful about that day in the ICU. It's the way my mom started crying. I hadn't seen her cry since the day dad and me moved out. Then again, I hadn't seen her much after that, either.
Anyway, I was there in the ICU, in a coma. It was weird, being in a coma. Sort of like being asleep, except I could hear everything that was going on. The sound of the doctor moving across the room, to the life support machine. The sound of my father's voice, gruff with emotion. The sound of my brother trying his best not to cry. It's all there.
I wanted to tell them that I wasn't hurting, but I couldn't make my mouth move. It was like my brain could tell my mouth to talk, but the order never got there. That feeling made me feel…guilty. So guilty. I wanted to reassure them, one last time. Or at least say goodbye back when they said it to me. But I couldn't.
The weirdest thing of all was when the doctor was turning off the life support machine. I knew I was going to die, but I wasn't afraid. Then, it was like I was suddenly 100% healthy again. I sat up and said out loud: "Mom, Dad, TK, I'm fine" but they didn't even seem to notice. That was when I noticed the annoying beeping noise. It took me a second to realize that that beeping sound was my heart monitor--flat lining. That was when I first realized I was dead.
My name is Yamato Ishida and I am dead. Well, actually, my friends call me Matt. But I was serious when I said I was dead.
OK, so maybe I should go back a little. You're probably wondering exactly what happened. I mean, people don't die for no reason, right? Wrong. There are plenty of people that die for no reason. I happened to be one of them.
It was a bombing. The apartment building I lived in was bombed and I was inside. But that wasn't what killed me. See, I got trapped in the debris with TK. God, he shouldn't have had to go through that. Those fifteen minutes were like Hell on Earth. He was visiting me from our Mom's house that day. Nice visit, don't you think?
Anyway, we were trapped down in the basement of the building, under debris. I managed to clear a way out so we wouldn't be in any danger. To sum it up, TK made it out, I didn't. The little pocket we were in collapsed before I could get out and that's how I landed in the hospital. I was only there for six hours.
The worst thing about dying was going to my own funeral. That was so depressing. My family and friends were all there, all dressed in black, all crying like crazy. It was kind of embarrassing for me. I mean, there I was, sitting in the back row of pews watching my own funeral, for crying out loud. Through the whole thing I felt like getting up and shouting: "hey, I'm right here, everyone! Look! I'm OK!" But I knew they couldn't hear me.
I didn't go look at myself in the casket. That would've been way too weird, even though I knew I was dead. Kind of makes me think of that old show, The Twilight Zone, you know?
That's pretty much it. How it happened, I mean. There's not really a whole lot to say, I guess. What else is there? I mean, I'm sitting at home one minute, channel surfing with my younger brother one second, the next I'm suddenly in the basement, the next thing I know I'm getting taken off life support.
But…I'm going to miss it. Life. I'm going to miss playing with my band. I'm going to miss going to visit Mom. I'm going to miss seeing all my friends and just hanging out. Never again. I'm guessing someone's gone to the Digiworld and told Gabumon by now. I wonder how he took it? Not too hard, I hope.
I just wish I could have said goodbye, you know? Told my friends and family not to worry about me or something. But I never got the chance. I blew it, too. The last time I saw just about all the people that meant something in my life we were arguing. Neither of us thought it was going to be the last time we ever talked to each other again, but it was. That's the worst part. I just didn't get to say goodbye….
The End
(A/N: I can't believe I wrote this. It must be the depression that comes with writer's block blowing steam or something. Well, tell me what you all thought! J)