Dead Boys Don't Love

I didn't die honorably, if any of you were wondering. Or hoping. I got drunk and crashed my truck.

Why? I was being kicked out of school, that's why.

I was going on a scholarship. I don't know how, but the school found out I was cheating my way through my math class. And that was it, I was done.

I went to the nearest bar and got wasted. People were blowing up my phone. 25 voicemails from my old man. Can you believe that?

Anyway, so I was sitting at the bar with this redneck from outta state and I remember myself telling him I was free. "Like yeah man, it's done you know? Like, I'm free. I'm like, free, you know?" And then I ordered another round while he muttered something unintelligible and laughed.

The next thing I know, I'm in my truck driving with the radio up and screaming at the top of my lungs. And then after that, I dunno, I was just dead.

There wasn't some bright light. I didn't see God. No flashbacks of my life. Everything was just blurry and mixed together, none of my senses seemed to work right. Apparently even death doesn't kill your buzz.

I was trapped to my body for a while. I was like, sorta alive in the back of the ambulance. I remember being back in my body for a second, staring up, and then I was back outside again.

I stayed with it until a nurse pronounced me dead. My body was so bruised up, blood and broken bones everywhere.

I tried to get someone to notice me. I tried to get back in my body, but it was no use. I moved some things around the hospital so people would know I was still there, but I made some little girl cry by moving the chairs, so I just left.

And that's when I met Olivia.