One vacation--it was meant to be perfect. Me and my friends, Samara and Duke, were going to go down the coast to the more... sunnier reaches of California. (We had originally been up in the more Northern, forest-filled, parts of the state.)

We had it all planned out--where'd we go, what we'd do.

Duke had even found different restaurants for us to try and shops for us to visit.

"You ready?" Duke calls to Samara as she gets her bag prepped to go. "I wanna get on the road before noon. ...Noon traffic's a bitch, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Samara calls from inside in a somewhat exasperated tone; even though I don't see her, I can almost guarantee that she rolled her eyes at that.

I give Duke a glance, my hazel eyes meeting his dark ones, suppressing a snicker. "You know, now that you've raised that point, Samara's purposely going to take longer."

Duke sighs. "Yup. I know."

A few moments more pass before Duke calls to her, "Samara, let's go."

"Okay, alright. God!" Samara appears on the steps before too long, making her way down them and soon enough coming to stand by our side. She gives Duke a glance, "Are you planning to open the trunk, or am I just going to have to hold all the bags with the eighteen arms I totally have."

Duke groans. "Yeah, yeah. Give me a second." He reaches forward, fingers slipping beneath a handle and popping the back of the car open before he picks up the bags from the driveway and throws them into the back.

"See? Not that hard." Samara snickers before throwing her stuff in.

Duke exhales heavily, but not harshly. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You're not the one who's gonna be weaving through traffic on the highways." He pauses before remarking, "It's like you enjoy making everything harder for me."

Samara grabs the handle of the front passenger side door. "Yeah, what gave that away?" She snorts. "It's my favorite pastime."

"Hands off," Duke says to Samara. "It's Nikolai's turn."

I add in, "You got shotgun yesterday, Sam. It's my turn now."

Samara rolls her eyes playfully as she pulls her hand back, palms raised up and present in mock defense. "Okay, okay. Alright. It's yours."

I flash a little bit of a devious grin to my friend before opening the passenger door myself and getting in--Duke and Samara follow in suit shortly after.

"Alright, are we all ready to go?" Duke begins, drumming his fingers on his steering wheel after getting his seatbelt.

"Yeah. Let's hit the road," Samara calls from the back. "We've gotta beat the traffic somehow."

Duke rolls his eyes, gaze going up to the mirror to glare back at Samara just briefly as he pulls out. "Oh, so now you care about the traffic? Where was that mentality twenty minutes ago?"

"Gone? Because it would piss you off?" She grins wildly.

Duke sighs. "Un-fucking-believable."

I laugh to myself at their banter as I hold the belt, pulling it to the slot. It doesn't click. I try again. Still, there's no click.

"What the hell?" I murmur to myself in confusion as I look down, trying to push the belt in.

Nothing.

"You okay up there, man?" Samara asks after I groan with annoyance.

"What happened to this?" I ask Duke, finger trailing over the crack down the side.

"What happened to what?" He asks.

"The seatbelt. It's fucking broke." Another tug, but there's still no luck on my part.

Duke raises an eyebrow, but he keeps his eye on the road, pulling onto a busier street. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously." I grunt again as I try to shove it into place.

"Hold it maybe?" Samara says. "Just until we can stop?"

"Sure," I reply, wryly. "I'll hold it." My grip on the belt loosens just a little.

"Donte took my car out for a little joyride last night," Duke tries to explain to us. "There were a few scratches on the bumper, but I didn't see any other damage to it at the time. He probably busted it."

Donte was Duke's younger brother. He was always throwing caution into the wind and diving headfirst into chaos, never looking back. It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if Donte damaged the car.

"We'll find a place to stop and I'll see what I can do... If I can't fix it, you'll just have to sit in the back with Samara," Duke continues to say as the car carves its way down the road.

"Seriously?" I groan with feigned annoyance. "Just when I finally get shotgun, I get it ripped away from me? Just like that?"

"It sucks, doesn't it?" Samara grins. "You'll be stuck back here with me for the entire r--"

Samara's words taper off as a vehicle comes tearing through, slamming right into the back of our car.

In the blink of an eye, I see the gravel washing through beneath me as I'm tossed through the windshield, going about thirty feet before I hit the ground with a loud bang.

Pain sears through my body, completely drowning me.

I wanna scream out in pain--cry and beg for help but all I manage to muster is a weak whine.

I can hear the faint screaming from Samara and Duke as they exit the car, running up to me as the culprit vehicle blazes past with its front bumper hanging off--like they're escaping the scene of the accident.

I can feel a few weak twitches as vignettes creep into the edges of my vision. Then, it's all dark.

In the dark, lonely abyss, I can still make out the sounds of ambulances and police cruisers in the distance, but I can't seem to do a single thing but lay there, helplessly.

One small but strange shiver travels down my spine and I slowly feel my vision adjust to the light again, taking in the scene of the sky and road, covered in blood and glass shards.

I blink a few times in disbelief as I finish adjusting myself, but I still feel dizzy.

Duke and Samara are off to the side now, speaking with some officer about what happened. And right smack in front of me is my body--mangled, cold, and pale.

Seeing your own corpse is the most jarring thing you'll ever experience. That was for sure.

So, what? I'm a ghost or something now?, I think to myself. Great. Fucking great.

Brain matter had painted a few of the lines of the road and I gag seeing it.

An officer approaches my direction and I expect him to walk right past me, but he doesn't. He just gives me a look. "This is a restricted area. You'll need to leave."

I swallow and back up, slowly. "Sorry," I squeak. "I didn't mean to get in the way. I was just... wondering what was going on."

Sirens blare all around me as police officers make reports, seal off the area and paramedics try to get my body up.

"I'm not a ghost," I whisper to myself. "Definitely not a ghost." I turn away from the gruesome sight. "That guy saw you." I wince in pain as a sharp stabbing sensation washes over my hand. I yank it up just to see the message getting carved into the flesh of the palm of my hand.

'Correct. Not a ghost', it says.

"Then what the fuck am I?" I whisper slowly. There's got to be more to this. I got killed and then stared my corpse down... There was something bigger at play.

I wince again at the words on my arm, appearing once more.

'Soon you'll know. We'll meet again, Nikolai Sidorov.'

"Fuck this cryptic bullshit," I mutter to myself as I duck my head, weaving away from more approaching police. I had to figure out what the hell was going on... and fast.