A Reflection

The worst part of nearly dying is not the moment you wake up. You blink open your eyes to adjust to the light. Maybe you shake some glass out of your hair. Time stops for one whole second—long enough to feel your soul float in and out of your body, if you believe in that kind of stuff. You reach down and feel shattered bones. “It’s broken,” you say matter-of-factly, because there’s nothing else that can possibly be said.

The worst part of nearly dying is not the confusion of a sweaty EMT coming at you with a pair of scissors. He holds you down with rough hands and warns you to stop crying; they’re only going to cut off your clothes. Except that’s precisely why you’re in tears. You just bought that expensive winter coat that makes you feel good about yourself and seeing it snipped apart is just the tip of the iceberg. …


Victoria Huntsinger

Digital Products at Penguin Random House, Marist grad, YA enthusiast, & smush-faced animal lover

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