Prologue
Sitting at the very front of the plane, he wanted to shake that grim feeling gripping the back of his head with its cold, icy palm. But he couldn't deny the inevitable fact that he did what he did, rather, what he HAD to do in order to survive. He felt the guilt in his stomach, like a landslide eating away at his very existence. It was there, malignant and growing like a tumor threatening the very life of him. He began to sweat furiously, twiddling his thumbs to take his mind off things. He leaned backwards and slumped in his chair, slinking down and wishing he didn't even exist.
Just then the plane began to rattle and for a moment, everyone lost their balance. Assured that it was just turbulence, he settled back into his seat, straightening out his T-shirt to ease the worries in his head. But clearly, the rumbling was not just turbulence. The entire back of the plane tore off in mid-air, dragging with it a seat or two from the section still in the air. He couldn't bring himself to look back, but he could hear the screeching and the air whooshing, and he certainly could feel the vacuum-like suction that nearly tore him apart. And then blackness.
