Prologue
They say it's not the fall that kills you.
It's the sudden stop at the end.
The feelings while falling are nothing like those at the end. When falling, the uncertainty of weightlessness consumes you; fear pervades your mind, corrupting all sense and logic as you reach out desperately grasping for any semblance of safety in the rushing air. The wind tears through your outstretched fingers as you plummet into the darkness towards your unknown destination, the torture of wishing for the end to come torn by the hope that it never does. As you fall, the feeling of moving faster than your previous worries can follow is the only consolation in the emptiness.
No, falling is nothing like the end.
The end is worse.
More worries than just my sudden stop were waiting for me in the dark, each more horrible than the last. Each writhing in its own grisly anticipation.
I didn't die when I fell.
No matter how much I wish I did.
