Page 126 of Contempt

Please, I don’t want to die, Renzo prayed. I’m not ready to die yet.

His thoughts were the last thing he heard.

• • •

What hell was this?

Or was it heaven?

Renzo didn’t think it was heaven—a person couldn’t physically hurt in heaven, right? Their bones didn’t feel like they were separating from one another when they were in heaven, surely. He was sure heaven didn’t make someone’s head feel like it was going to explode, either.

Heaven wasn’t supposed to be pain.

Why couldn’t he open his eyes?

“… the coma is …”

“… the team in, I’ll pay. Get them here …”

“… going to change your …”

It was strange, in a way. Renzo’s body was weightless—indefinitely floating on … something. Or nothing at all. He couldn’t feel his skin, or his hands, or anything else. But he could feel the pain.

The pain was ever-present.

Constant.

Behind the black space of where he was sure should be his eyes, all he saw was darkness. Not even streaks of colors, or the fuzzy shape of something. No, he just saw streaks of different shades of darkness.

And there was color.

Not a lot, sure.

Just a little.

A pin hole of color—bright, and yellow. It was warm, he thought. Warmer than his unfeeling body floating in a sea of nothingness. That light welcomed him closer, and called to him without making a single noise.

He just felt it.

Like everything else.

And nothing at all.

“… code blue …”

“… give me twenty more …”

“… call it after five …”

“… Ren …”

The light got smaller all of the sudden, and he was angry at it. He was angry that it promised something beautiful and wonderful and warm, and then it went away. He was pissed it became smaller, like a pin prick in the back of his mind that he couldn’t reach no matter how hard he tried to get to it.

He ignored the light, then.

Ignored the warmth.

Ignored it when it got bigger.