There was a bright light and a screech of tires. Marcus didn't even have time to see what kind of car had hit him. The last thing he saw were the blinding headlights that preceded an even more blinding pain. Disoriented, he ascended from the tarmac as his life flashed before his eyes. 18 years, both good and bad. The first time he'd played a guitar. The first time he'd tasted beer. The first time he'd kissed someone on the lips. He hadn't gotten to second bace yet. Not really. He'd hoped that would change at the party he'd been heading to tonight when... Oh yeah. The car. His memories finished with a mild annoyance at himself for having thrown on a black hoody five minutes ago before running out on a black night on a black road.
The pain of broken bones was already a distant sensation by the time Marcus hit the ground again, bouncing and rolling like a rag-doll being tossed to the side. It felt like it was happening to something else, somewhere else at some other time. Like he had already left his body and the thing skidding and bouncing limp down the street was but a memory. A memory from a life he'd once lived.
Blood pooled around the lifeless body as it came to rest on the asphalt, while the car sped off away from the scene of the crime. A hit and run. Remittance of consciousness flittered with some final mortal thoughts.
“Great. I'm going to be late to the party,” Marcus thought with vague disappointment, too far gone to even understand that he was about to die.
“They'll be wondering where I've gone off to. I really should text them to say I can't make it. Oh shit. I bet that car wrecked my phone. Good thing I've got insurance. I'll just get a new phone.” And just like that...
...there was a bright light.