I knew he was dead. I knew it. I had watched him die, held his hand even, six months ago when his heart stopped. Right? Hadn’t I? So what was he doing now? Smiling at me in the middle of Main Street? I reached my hand out toward him as I started to cross the street. Which was immediately a mistake when I heard the tires screeching and horns blaring. I narrowly made it back to the sidewalk before the cab hit me. I had almost gotten myself killed for a mirage. Like I needed any more reasons for my heart to be racing. By the time I looked back to where Scott had been standing, he was gone.
Was I losing my mind? Or was Scott somehow still alive? As I slowly ambled down the sidewalk toward my dorm room, I wondered if I was losing my mind. I had his hand. I watched his chest stop moving. Had he been faking? I somehow made it back to my dorm room without further incident, but every time I saw someone walk by, I looked at my feet. I didn’t want to ever see Scott again. Dead or alive. I burst into my room to tell my roommate about what happened and froze. Her face was white and she was shaking.
“I saw Scott. He’s alive. After what we did to him, how is it possible? What mistake did we make?”
“He’s coming for us. We’ll have to run.”