People say that there is a time in your life, right before you die, when your whole life flashes before your eyes. I always thought it a bit cliché, until I learned the hard way that it was one of the truest statements ever made.
And if you would have told me a year ago that I would be sitting here, strapped to a chair, pain lacing my body, staring into the eyes of someone I think I both love and hate, I would have told you that you were crazy. There is no way that something like that could happen to me, a small town kid with no enemies to my name.
But now I know it to be the truth. Not only does you’re your life flash before your eyes, but also all the regrets of what could have and should have been.
It’s those tortured eyes I see. I want to turn away, and yet I want to be fully engulfed in the sea of those deep green eyes. The bonds that hold me are more of my own making, and stronger than any that they could ever use to restrain me.
Those eyes say rescue me and tell me to never give in, all at once. They are confused and yet defiant. Weak and yet so impossibly strong. What am I supposed to do? I can feel the pressure rising, consuming everything around me. Is it me, or is it hotter all of the sudden? The room is spinning.
Then there is an explosion and lots of screaming. It’s the screaming that I will never be able to erase from my dreams as long as I live.
© Intellectual Copyright Jeff Borders 2012