Work Text:
The aftermath of the explosion leaves continuous ringing in my ear drums and echoes through to the back of my head, overwhelming my senses. I couldn’t feel the pain that is inevitably there; a sharp piece of rubble from a nearby building, that had been bombed, buries itself in my abdomen, and warm, crimson liquid pools out at an alarming pace, surrounding my lower figure. The warmth seeps in between my fingers. I try to lift my heavy limbs to shake off the blood, but it is as though a weight is preventing me from doing just that; as though a person is pushing me down into the ground, causing my body to feel heavier and heavier as more and more blood gushes out of my deep wound.
I couldn’t hear very well, but I could see people from all angles rushing back and forth, carrying the bodies of victims of the disastrous explosion, most with injuries as severe as my own. Other people are crying over either dead or injured loved ones, cradling them in their arms, blood dribbling from wounds, as their energy drifts away and they slowly give up hope.
It feels like a movie. I could never even imagine what a situation like this could entail or that it could have ever happened to me; it all feels surreal, like a fiction novel. Maybe I’m not actually here? Who can tell. Why does this feel like a dream? I’m invisible. Why can’t I move?
My body numbs, and I find it difficult to swallow, or even blink. My breath rattles out, every muscle in my body feels like it’s working overtime to keep me alive. Everything aches. I breathe in lightly, but the pain in my lungs prevents me from sucking in a required amount of oxygen, and I feel as though I am slowly drowning. I involuntarily cough, and warm liquid finds its way up through my throat and dribbles out the corners of my mouth. I gag at the metallic taste.
Apart from the ringing in my ears, I can hear light murmurs, presumably from nearby people dashing past. Some of the murmurs get gradually louder, and I catch some words spoken by them.
“– are they still breathing?” I hear the voice of a female. Perhaps … not invisible?
The silence is almost as deafening as the constant ringing, the only sounds interrupting being rustling of clothes, ripping of medical supplies and the never-ending drone of ambulance and police sirens. A throb erupts from deep in my chest, most probably from lack of oxygen.
“Oh, God, I hope not.” A male voice replies after what seems like a long time. “For their sake, I mean.”
There is a hum as some sort of agreement. The footsteps get closer; I can feel the vibrations of their heavy footsteps. Two seemingly hesitant fingers are held against the side of my numb neck, barely noticeable on my behalf. They are quickly removed.
“There’s barely a pulse,” says the man. “They're basically dead, we're wasting our time here. We can come back later, if we have time, and collect the body.”
The voices cease for a moment, lingering for an uncomfortable amount of time, the atmosphere growing so cold that I’d shudder if my body would respond, until the woman speaks up. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go, then.”
The quick dismissal leaves me in shock that I can barely comprehend the situation. The footsteps hurry away from me and I breathe out short, rattling breath. The feeling of abandonment aches throughout my body, mainly residing in my chest. The pain is too unbearable to deal with, but I feel too useless to help myself.
Words they spoke echo through my head: ‘Barely a pulse’ … ‘Basically dead’ … ‘Wasting our time’ …
‘The body’ … The body …
I’m not invisible, it’s just that no one cares.