I was lying in the wreck. My body lay bent in the most disturbing position, head bent to far back to be alive, eyes still wide with shock. The experience had been a shock. Ray had smashed through the windscreen when the two car heads had collided. He died instantly. Something had smashed against me and thrown my head forward which collided with Ray's headrest but my body kept moving forward, my neck had snapped. I also died instantly.
When the bodies had been moved from the car and carried away to the ambulance on stretchers I sat next to my body, covered only with a white sheet. When we reached the hospital they were moved to a more private place so my family could identify me. When they came and identified me I stood by them, they couldn't see me. I wanted to let them know, it was okay and they shouldn't be upset, but my cries and pleads and reassuring comments weren't acknowledged, because they weren't heard. I was no expert, but I wasn't dumb, I realised the living and the dead couldn't communicate, so why did I still try? I don't know.
I was scared, watching my body being taken away and buried. I watched my crying relatives at my funeral, and when Mikey stood up at the front to say his final words to me desperation swept over me. No one could hear me, I was dead to them. Hell, that's what I was. Dead.
"Mikey! I'm here! No! It's not over! I am still with you! Mom, Dad! No! I'm here! No everyone why can't you see me?! Please someone! ANYONE! Please…help."
I woke up with a jump. What the hell was that? Who on earth was Mikey? And what's not over? I must be going mental;
"No more coffee before bed for you Frank Anthony Iero" I muttered to myself.