I died.

My body lies in a cooling pool of blood, the flashing lights of arriving police and ambulance vehicles reflect in my still open unseeing eyes. Near my corpse; a child is crying, her mother holds her tight and stares at my broken, lifeless body with a mixture of gratitude, sorrow and guilt.

A slight distance away; people are holding down a shouting man near the wreckage of a car, others are watching as part of a stunned mass of spectators. I, myself, am standing in the middle of it all; watching. A paramedic runs towards me and then through me without pausing as he moves to my already lifeless corpse. He checks my pulse and breathing (or lack thereof) and starts to perform CPR.

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“Why is my first kiss with a guy!!” I cry out and fall to my knees.

Of everything that has happened so far, this might be the most painful.

On my way home from university: I saved a child about to be run over by a car and in exchange was hit myself.

My name is Arden Bell and as mentioned before, I am dead.