Prologue
TOME 1
Post Mortem
I was 26 when I died.
I didn’t hear the car coming.
My headphones glued to my ears, Radiohead’s All I Need blaring,
I was daydreaming. It was late, I was cold. I could hardly wait to get home. I didn’t look at the road markings.
Although I’ve lived in London for two years, I’ve never got used to the direction of the traffic here.
I saw it at the last moment.
My brain quickly calculated that it was too late, that the car was going too fast. I remember thinking : this is it, it’s over.
Freezing in the middle of the road. Looking at the man behind the wheel.
I petrified.
He accelerated, strangely enough.
Those are the last clear memories I have.
Then the light. Dazzling.
The shock.
Sensations unknown to my body.
Then nothing much.
No more sounds or images, anyway.
Just the horrible feeling of falling into a pit of darkness.
And the cold.
I remember the cold.
I was 26 years old.
My name was Nea.
