The faces of my family slowly disappear from my sight as the fog of nothingness surrounds me, swallowing me; suffocating me. The coldness of the fog seems to forget me and I do not feel it, but I do not feel the warmness of life either.
I remember my seven year-old little sister and how she used to run around the lawn yelling all the things she would find at me. She would run up to where I sat in my wheelchair on the porch, rosy petals as her cheeks, and a hidden sadness in her hazel eyes. Her hands would be a musty brown from the dirt of the garden and a frightened snail would almost quiver in her hands.
I look down and see my feet holding me up for once.
It had happened when I was eight, exactly nine years ago. The doctors had tried all they could after the accident that took my legs away, the police tried as hard as they could to catch the man whose car stole my childhood breath away. But to no avail, on either accounts.
But that had not been all that had happened to me, I had lost so much more.
A piece of me was never corrected and had become worse as the years had passed. Doctors had not seen it and it had become the holder of my last breath in the warm, blue shaded hospital room.
I can still feel the tears of my mother on my cheeks, but they are neither cold nor hot; temperature is nonexistent here.
Then I hear it; the long whistle in the fog is my only indicator.
The light follows the noise and I feel the soft whoosh of wind as it rushes towards me and struggles to stop directly in front of me.
My dad used to kick a soccer ball around with me when I was eight, before the accident.
He never forgave himself for not seeing the drunk driver.
Mom and him divorced shortly after I was put in a wheelchair, his swollen red, guilty eyes will forever haunt me as his final kiss of apology touched my forehead minutes before.
The train finally stops and I step forward towards a cheerful man. "Hey there, we'll lead you on your journey young one."
"Where will we go?" I ask, stepping onto the train and seeing several shapes, all shadows, except for an old lady who sits by the window nearest to the conductor.
"Wherever you wish to go." The conductor answers and the train begins its journey towards the next lost soul.