In the moment of a car crash, there are no coherent thoughts, only fragments.
Fragments of sight, fragments of touch, fragments of emotion, fragments of a lifetime of memories... like countless fireworks exploding at once, blooming against the vast, dark curtain of life.
When Fu Tailan felt his body go light and the world flip over, he closed his eyes.
He'd been handcuffed the moment he got in the car, with no seatbelt. By all rights, it wouldn't have been surprising if he'd died in the crash.
But as it happened, he didn't die. And it seemed he wouldn't be dying anytime soon.
'See? Nest dissociation disorder isn't a completely bad thing.'
The pain of every impact, every crush, every scrape, felt unreal, disembodied.
The pain seemed to spring from some distant place outside himself, washing over him like a tide. It didn't come from his battered skull, or the arm bent beneath him... or anywhere else on his body.
He didn't know when he'd lost consciousness.
