TITLE: Eight Minutes, Thirty-Two Seconds
GENRE: YA Suspense
L had forgotten how many times she’d died.
Then, after resurrection, withdrawal kicked in with shaking and seizures, making it impossible to pretend she’d not become addicted to dying. Craving the life discovered in those brief moments of oblivion before being reborn.
Once more. Her eternal promise to M: just one more death. Please.
L’s fingers shook where they rested on his arm, trying to pull the injector closer to the port in her forearm. “Just one more.”
“One more, for you,” he said. “Leaves the rest for me.”
M pressed the plunger.
For a moment, she wanted to curse him. Damn him for injecting her, for wanting the rest of the doses, for reminding her that after she died she’d forget her empty promises of never doing this again.
He’d heard it all before. He’d hear it again the next time he killed her.
But the moment was fatally brief as the heat reached her heart. Fire tore through her left arm, to her jaw, into her ears with the banshee wails of flatlining.
The pain overwhelmed. Until there was no pain at all.
The first seconds after dying were a vertigo death spiral, when the brain shuts down in a cascade of agony amid the inescapable sound of the last beat of her heart.
Seconds later, other memories return. She’d died before. She’d die again. On purpose.
Death had a reason.