To you: After the End

(Read only after chapter 5)

[Side note: listen to "Blue hair by TV Girl" as an opening for this chapter (Obviously not official, But I promise it will enhance your experience 100 times, Now! Don't be lazy! It's for your own good.)]

Johan's pov

My name is Johan Orlven. I am 18 years old and in my final year of high school. My life is beautiful—loving parents, a perfect younger sister, four close friends, and a crush on 'her'. Life is peaceful.

Today was a bad day, if that's what we call it. But it wasn't really that bad. I'd say it was an experience. You can't expect good things to happen all the time. There can't be light without darkness.

Like—

What if I married my crush? Had a beautiful daughter? A dog? It's inevitable—we will all die, including my dog, my wife... my daughter. They could also all die before me, leaving me in unbearable sorrow, making life worse than death. But does that mean I should never start a family? Never love someone? No, I don't think so.

Her name is Sophie. I've had a crush on her since third grade. This is my final year—my last chance to tell her.

So, I did it. I proposed to her.

She said she had a boyfriend.

I personally don't mind rejection; it's her choice in the end. I can't force her. But I know she didn't have a boyfriend. So, did she lie just to spare my feelings? That only makes it sting more.

Why do people lie? Why do they play pretend?

I walked out of school, onto the stone footpath, heading back home. Haa… at least Dr. Stone's new season is coming out.

What the fuck?

A group of people was crossing the road like they owned it. Thankfully, the cars were slow, looking out for those idiots. Ah, I recognize them—Sophie, her 'boyfriend,' and some of their friends. 

Are they high? It looks like it. Maybe I should help them. They aren't strangers; I've known them for almost nine years.

"Hey!" I yelled, waving at them.

They turned towards me as I carefully crossed the road.

"It's you. I already said no. Stop stalking me, or I'll call the cops."

Sophie is sweet otherwise, but probably paranoid under the influence.

"No, I was just—"

Before I could say anything, her 'boyfriend' punched me.

It caught me off guard, knocking me straight to the ground. He grinned like he was proud of something.

"Never get near my sister again, you bastard. I'll kill you."

I don't know why, but I felt a great sense of relief—like a mountain had been lifted off my chest. 

'Just a brother…'

Ah, but my new white shirt is covered in dirt.

I tried to get up, sighing. "Look, buddy, you're all causing trouble. I was just trying to help. And why the hell would you get high in public?"

I was almost on my knees when Sophie yelled.

"Look out, Johan!"

Panic laced her voice. Her brother rushed towards me.

A semi-truck was coming straight at me—fast.

Why was her brother trying to save me? That motherfucker was the one who caused it all.

Why the fuck am I thinking about that now?

"What're you doing? Get up!" he yelled.

'I see. They're pretty good people.'

Ahh… my heart aches. I want to scratch it so bad. What am I even saying?

It looks like I pushed that idiot brother away… and the truck hit me.

My mind is going blank.

Ha, look at them. They look so worried.

I tried to raise my hand to silence their loud yelling, but it wouldn't move.

I am dying…

Regret fills me.

I want to talk to my father. I always acted cold toward him. I should've treated him better.

My mother… I hope she copes with my death.

Frieda… she'll be sad. I didn't get her the strawberry donuts she wanted.

I hope… I really hope Mom can help her. I don't want her to suffer because of me.

I closed my eyes.

For them to never open again.

But open they did.

I felt the cold floor on my cheek. I was lying on the ground, my strength completely gone. My body felt like stone. When I tried to move my hand, only my fingers twitched.

I could still smell and hear, though I couldn't see where I was.

Immediately, the strong smell of gas overwhelmed me. I was suffocating from the lack of fresh air.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

It hurts so bad.

Something sharp was lodged inside my stomach—millions of tiny, jagged swords piercing my entire body. Every breath felt like spears puncturing my lungs. My body contorted in agony. My eyes bled. My feet felt twisted hundreds of times, then crucified with a sword so they wouldn't twist back.

Each beat of my heart sent a wave of agony, like my body was expanding, exploding, reconstructing, then exploding again. I tried not to breathe—it was too painful—but my body forced in air.

AHHHH!

I screamed in pure agony. My hand moved from the sheer pain and struck something hard.

Thud!

A vase shattered against my forehead, glass embedding itself into my face and eyes.

Through the unbearable pain, I checked my body. Was I crushed by that truck? No… this was something else.

I tried opening my eyes to see where I was.

This wasn't a hospital.

Or did Sophie lock me in a dungeon? That sounds hot for some reason.

Ahh, now's not the time for these stupid thoughts. Focus.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to push those thoughts aside. But the moment I opened my eyes, my vision exploded in searing pain.

Glass shards were lodged in my pupils. Every tear that fell shifted the shards, making me cry more, causing more pain, forcing more tears.

An endless cycle of agony.

It felt like forever. I wanted to scream, to beg for help, but no sound came.

Please… make this go away.

My stomach and lungs grew unbearably heavy, like they would crush me into paste. A slimy, salty, bitter liquid filled my mouth, pouring out like a fountain, covering my entire body.

I was drowning in it.

It smelled of rotting moss and curd left out in the summer heat for a hundred days. The stench made me puke again.

My body felt empty. Light. The pain was lessening.

I slowly got onto my knees, tears, snot, and bile still pouring from me. My head was heavy.

I tried standing, desperate to understand where I was. But after only two steps, exhaustion slammed into me. I collapsed to my knees, barely stopping myself from face-planting into the wooden floor.

As I gasped for breath, I heard footsteps—rushing toward me.

My heartbeat quickened.

I tried to call for help, but all that came out was a weak, inaudible squeak.

My muscles tensed visibly. No—I shouldn't lose hope. Maybe they'll help me.

Yes, I should hope for the best.

I tried crawling on the floor, trying to find something, I don't know what.

Suddenly, all of my wounds healed. That wasn't even the most bizarre part, I'm pretty sure I was a red paste on the road. And for some reason, I can feel my limbs.

Only the pain, the previous pain of getting turned into a paste, the current pain—It hurts so damm much.