2:57 P.M. October. How was school today? (It was pretty good.) 1:44 A.M. August. Why are you still awake? Wait, are you crying? (No, no, I'm not. Stop, just go back to sleep.) 3:24 P.M. November. I thought the poem was one of the most beautiful pieces I read for how honest and brave it was, so thank you for sharing that with me. (Yeah, I just thought you were worth writing a poem about.) 12:15 P.M. July. So that will be twenty-three dollars and fifty cents for your meal. Thank you and come again. (Thanks! Have a good day!) 4:29 P.M. May. I'm going to miss you and I really do wish you the best. Soon, it'll be your time and you need to make the most of it. (I will.) 1:59 P.M. December. Why don't you smile much? (What is there to smile about?) 5:11 P.M. April. Yeah, this isn't going to work out. You're just . . . I'm just not interested anymore. (I don't understand. I don't understand. Why are you doing this to me?) 8:36 A.M. February. Isn't today your birthday? (Does it even matter?) 2:48 P.M. September. If you could describe yourself in three words, what would they be? (Stupid, stupid, and stupid.) 11:04 A.M. January. Do you believe in ghosts? (I think I am one.)

Memories were beautifully brutal things. Nobody had warned me that I would be thrown through a multitude of them. It was like furiously switching channels, but there was no remote. It was erratic and dizzying, leaving me with a pungent aftertaste. Images flashed and pricked my eyes; voices ripped through my ears. I screamed - no, I stayed silent. It could have been seconds or years, but time didn't seem to exist. I can't. I can't. I can't. What is happening? Stop. Stop. Stop.

And then -

nothing.

Everything else died away - every moment, every word, every feeling. An untainted ivory engulfed me. Glowing with a steady intensity, that was all I was able to understand. I didn't know anything else. I was detached. Gone. So easily, too easily.

That was until -

I recaptured my senses. It all came flooding in, glaring and violent. Without warning, I was able to feel . . . and I immediately grew aware of something pressed against my mouth. I felt it rapidly exhaling into me, allowing me warm air to take in. I felt hands holding my face, my hair sticking to my skin. Faintly, I grasped that I was somehow - disbelievingly - being resurrected. As the outcome, I began to cough up water, a fierce sting soaring from my chest to my throat. Whatever it was swiftly left my lips.

Cracking open my eyes, bewilderment - along with an outrageous realization - punctured me. No, no - Gasping, I blinked several times to get rid of the haziness, struggling to absorb the sight before me. However, I soon had no choice but to accept that I wasn't hallucinating. It was a real person; it was a guy.

In an instant, I mustered enough strength to shoot up into a sitting position, panting hard. My hands met the ground and I dug my fingernails in. The unidentified male hastily stumbled back, anxiety written plainly on his face. Once I was able to draw in air properly, I trained my eyes on him. Right away, I noticed that he was shaking wildly, wringing wet. The color was drained out of his face, his jaw vibrating. I couldn't blame him. It was so cold.

I gritted my teeth, confused and upset and overwhelmed. Both of us seemed to be 100% incompetent of uttering a word. Mentally, I couldn't function at all. It was as if everything I'd ever learned had been wiped out. It was absolute chaos inside.

What - I . . . How - No . . . No . . . Why? I . . .

My mind scrambled, frantically attempting to hold on to a thought, but so many things - so many questions - sprinted through, back and forth. The sound of our harsh breaths made its way to my ears. Other than that, there was a deafening quiet that descended upon us, and it began to drive me mad. My head felt like splitting into fragments. I wanted to scream out of frustration. How could this have happened? I'm supposed to be dead - dead - dead. But rather than giving in to the urge, I remained wordless.

Droplets of water slid down our skin. The wind was not helping in any way and above us, the moon was leaving. My fingers started to ache from being pressed hard against the ground, but I couldn't get a grip on myself and on what was going on so I settled.

He, for a moment, shut his eyes, like he couldn't believe anything anymore. I didn't blame him for feeling so incredulous. What else were you supposed to feel if you realized that you just prevented someone from dying?

His face possessed a trace of familiarity, but I failed to place a name on him. Due to the lack of light, it was difficult to accurately distinguish his features, but it was palpable that he wasn't too bad-looking. Not at all, actually. He didn't seem to be much older than I was, but I wasn't certain. At this angle, he had charcoal-hued hair, several strands stuck to his forehead. He was attired in a long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants - needless to say, every ounce was soaked, clinging to his body. What I fully registered next was that he was rather fit - but in the back of my mind, I already knew that since he was clearly capable of diving in and hauling me out of the freaking water. God . . . Out of all the people who had to interrupt me at a time like this, it had to be him?

After what felt like far-too-many minutes, the intriguing character before me finally put his voice to use. But the words that slipped from his lips weren't at all what I anticipated.