T W E N T Y
I’m not sure if I’m dead or alive. My body aches more than I could imagine, and I wonder if this is what it’s like to be on the other side. Somehow, I feel as if I’m still alive: if I were dead, I am hoping it would not be this painful.
I peel open one eye and see I am lying, face down, on a metal floor, in a darkened room, lit by red emergency lights. I look up and struggle to make out the shape before me.
“Brooke?” a voice asks. It is a male voice, and I know I recognize it from somewhere, but can’t remember where.
“Brooke?” he asks again, softly.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, gently prodding me.
I manage to open my eye a bit more, and finally recognize the face: Ben. He leans over me, gently prodding me, trying to see if I’m alive.
“This is for you,” he says.
There i
