He's falling.
crash--one, two.
The concrete and grass are growing larger beneath him.
closer closer--three, four.
Panic registers somewhere in his mind along with chants of "I'm gonna die" that blur together until it's a steady hum above the rushing of air in his ears.
why why why--five, six.
He knew he shouldn't have trusted that old fuck. Stole his son's kidney, and now he's stolen his son's life. All it took was a few well placed lies and one well placed shove.
dead dead dead dead--seven, eight.
He sucks in air to scream, but collides with the ground before it can tear itself out.
Eight seconds to fall four stories. Eight seconds for his life to end.
one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight.
Somewhere beneath him he feels his spine shatter into one two three four different pieces before the loving darkness takes over.
Four days later when he wakes up in the hospital, he wishes his father had lived on a higher floor.
Four years later when he stands amidst the confusion of flight 815, he allows himself to smile for the first time since the accident.
Maybe his life isn't over after all.