That night I was just a normal college kid. Nothing special. I sat on my small bed like always, the room smelled like the leftover instant noodles I ate for dinner and the cheap soap I used when I showered earlier. I had my phone in my hands, the light from the screen the only light in the room. I played another round of the same game I always played. Tap tap. Level up. My thumbs moved almost by themselves. It was easy and warm and I didn't have to think.
Outside the window the campus was quiet. I could hear a scooter far away and maybe a dog barking but that was it. I didn't even bother turning on the big light. My chair was full of laundry and my books were in a messy pile on the floor. Same as every night.
Then the phone screen flickered. Just a little flash like the Wi-Fi dropped. I frowned, thought about hitting refresh, but before I could do anything the phone buzzed in my palm hard like someone shook it.
A low sound rolled under me. At first I thought it was a big truck outside. The floor kind of hummed. But the sound didn't stop. It got heavier, deeper, like a giant growl under the building.
The ceiling light swayed. The picture of my parents, the one from graduation where they are smiling so big, rattled on the wall.
"Eh…?"
I didn't even finish the word.
The frame hit the floor with a sharp crack.
My phone slipped and smacked the tile. I heard the screen break before I saw it.
The rumble turned into shaking. The whole room jumped like it was alive.
Earthquake.
I grabbed the edge of the desk and tried to stand but the desk slid an inch across the floor. Books fell. The chair tipped over and banged against the wall. Somewhere upstairs somebody screamed.
"Shit—"
The floor pitched sideways. My knees hit wood. Pain shot up my leg.
The building groaned, a sound like metal bending in a storm.
I stumbled to the window because the door was shaking so hard I thought it would jam. I yanked the handle and pushed it open.
What I saw outside stole all the air from my chest.
The city was breaking apart.
Explosions popped like camera flashes, but huge—entire rooftops bursting in light and fire. Tall buildings swayed and then folded down like toys. Smoke poured into the night sky so thick it covered the stars. Alarms and sirens howled from every direction.
Down in the street people were running, tiny dark shapes with white faces. A car skidded sideways and smashed into a streetlight. Sparks flew and a power line whipped across the pavement like a live snake.
My apartment building shuddered again.
Walls cracked. Dust rained like gray snow.
I had to move.
I turned back toward the door. The hallway was a blur of falling plaster.
The floor jumped under me. My foot slid and I went down hard, glass biting into my palm. Warm blood slid across my skin.
Another explosion boomed so close the window rattled like it would break.
I crawled toward the door coughing, the dust scratching my throat like sand.
My heart was too loud in my ears.
The whole building gave a long, deep groan.
Then the world tipped.
A loud snap ripped through the floor.
The ground disappeared.
For a heartbeat I floated.
Then I dropped.
I fell through screaming metal and splintering wood.
When I hit, the shock slammed everything out of me—air, thought, everything. White pain burst across my ribs.
Dust and smoke rushed into my mouth. I choked and spat, eyes burning.
Above me the ceiling kept breaking. Pieces of concrete rained down, big and small. One chunk smashed my shoulder so hard I saw sparks behind my eyes.
Move. I had to move.
I rolled onto my side. My left ankle screamed. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else.
Sirens still wailed somewhere far away. Something big collapsed with a roar that shook the ground again.
A child cried in the distance. The sound cut right through the ringing in my ears.
I opened my mouth to shout but only a weak croak came out.
Every breath hurt. The air smelled of smoke and something sharp, like burned plastic.
I dragged myself a few feet, nails scraping the floor. My arms trembled.
Memories started to spill in, quick and bright. My mother laughing when I spilled rice all over the kitchen. My dad helping me carry boxes when I moved here, telling me I'd do great. The stupid group photo from last summer where I stood in the back, pretending I wasn't happy to be there.
I wanted to see them again. Just one more day.
My vision swam.
Another crack above me.
A piece of ceiling the size of a car door tore free.
I didn't even have time to cover my head.
It hit beside me, the edge cutting across my ribs. Pain flared so hot it felt cold.
I gasped but air wouldn't come.
Everything slowed.
I lay on my side, coughing weakly, dust coating my skin until I felt like part of the rubble.
The strength in my arms and legs leaked away. Like water draining from a broken cup.
Regret came next. Heavy and sharp.
All the things I hadn't finished. The assignments sitting half-done. The text to my best friend I never sent. The call to my parents I kept putting off because I was "too busy."
A bitter sound scraped out of my throat, half laugh half sob.
"Why… why is my life… so hard?" The words cracked like old wood. "I didn't even finish college… and I die… like this… like this…"
The edges of the room went dark.
My heartbeat slowed, softer, slower.
The world faded.
Black.
---
Silence. But deeper than silence. Like everything—sound, light, time—was gone.
I don't know if I was floating or just not touching anything. No up, no down. Just a big nothing.
Was this death?
I waited for pain or fear but nothing came. Only a strange calm, like sinking underwater and forgetting you need to breathe.
Maybe this is fine, I thought. No more tests. No more rent. No more pretending.
Then a flicker.
Far away, a tiny light, like a star that shouldn't be there.
It pulsed, slow, steady.
I felt it pull at me even though I didn't have a body to pull.
I reached—maybe I only thought I reached.
The light swelled.
Warmth brushed me, soft and careful, like wind through leaves.
A whisper tickled my ears or maybe my mind. Too faint to understand.
My heart—or whatever I had now—beat faster.
The nothing around me trembled.
The light flared, bright enough to blind though I had no eyes.
And suddenly—
I was falling again.
But this time into endless white instead of black.
The white wasn't empty. It felt alive, like it breathed. I heard a low hum, almost music.
I wanted to ask where I was. I wanted to shout. But no sound came.
The white wrapped around me, warm and endless.
And the world I knew—my room, my city, my whole life—was gone.