Trigger warning! This story talks about abuse to some detail. If you are easily triggered by such, do not read. Thank you!
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Death was waiting at the side of Whizzer's hospital bed, holding one of his blueish, pale hands as he began to soothe him into the afterlife. There was pity to be read in his features, as if he understood the pain and memories that went through Whizzer's head.

Several people were sitting in chairs, watching him expectantly. There were the living, and the dead.

In the chair closest to his bed, but not the one Death sat in, his mother crossed her legs, watching him with fright. In the chair in the corner, was his ex, and standing, leaning in the doorframe, was  his  best-friend from childhood, Anne, still athletic and graceful as ever.

They said, that as you died, your life would flash before your eyes. His life didn't flash before him like a movie. It was horribly directed. His life wasnt heard, performed to him in song form or read to him like a book. It was too sloppily written. Life was witnessed. So each and every dead person he had met while alive, seemed to show up, waiting patiently to watch him die.

To Whizzer, he felt the beginning of his life stated when he moved to the city, he was about twenty-one then, still embracing his fairly recent name change.

Still, there was a time before his twenty-first year, and that was his true beginning.

His hand was limp in Death’s hand, he was too scared of dying before he got to see his start. Wasn't it funny, how death looked so much like him? Yes, death looked a lot like Marvin.

Marvin made it a lot  easier to take Death’s hand. He squeezed his hand, and then he began to remember.