Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.
Prologue:
They say, when you die, your life is supposed to flash before your eyes. In a split second you are supposed to remember, and commemorate every memory ingrained into the very core of your mind. Random images will run through your mind, like a silent movie reel. You feel every emotion—love, hate, joy, agony, sadness, ecstasy. The pulsing of your heart is supposed to speed up and suddenly, it will halt. You will gasp for air, though it is a futile effort, and eventually, you will make peace with your death.
That is the way it is supposed to happen.
You are not supposed to dwell on your small discomforts: that your back is itchy, hand you cannot scratch it because your arm is broken in four different locations; that your legs are sticking to the leather interior of your car; that you are getting blood on your favorite CD. Yet you can only think of these things.
Or rather, you won't let yourself remember the good parts, the important parts of your short life. Because everything that matters, anything worth reliving, relates to her. And if you think about her—the way her umber eyes light up, like an explosion of fireworks in a clear sky, when you kiss her, and the gorgeous flush of red that splashes, like the most glorious paint, across her creamy ivory skin, when she is embarrassed—the prominent pain of what you are about to lose will be ten million times worse than your so-near death.
So, yes, you forget she existed, you destroy every moment you two spent together, every phrase, sound, breath that came from her soft pink lips, and for an instant, you can't remember why death is so horrible. In that one instant, you prepare to leave this world behind forever.
Unfortunately for you, Fate has other plans.
A/N: This is going to be something other than a oneshot. I hope it is good. It was fun to write. Please review.