After the Accident, I started seeing Ghosts

The day had started like any other Saturday. I was up early, buzzing with excitement about the album I'd just bought. It wasn't just any album; it was from my favorite band, and the new songs were supposed to be amazing. I had been counting down the days until the concert, which was just a few weeks away. I had saved up for months, and when I finally bought the album, I felt like I was on top of the world.

I remember walking down the street with a spring in my step, the album clutched tightly in my hand. The sun was shining, and there was a soft breeze that made the day feel perfect. I had the album cover memorized and was already imagining how the songs would sound live. My mind was filled with images of the concert—bright lights, the band on stage, and the crowd singing along. I even imagined myself being in the front row, feeling the music vibrate through my entire body.

Lost in my daydreams, I didn't pay much attention to my surroundings. I was so immersed in the anticipation of the concert that I barely noticed the hustle and bustle of the city around me. People hurried past, chatting on their phones or carrying shopping bags. Cars and buses roared by, but I didn't really see any of it. My focus was entirely on the album and the concert ahead.

It all happened so quickly. One moment, I was stepping off the curb, the album still clutched in my hand, and the next, there was a blinding flash of yellow. I barely had time to register what was happening before everything went dark.

When I woke up, I was in the hospital. My mind was disoriented and groggy. The bright white light of the hospital room made my head pound. I tried to sit up but quickly realized that I was strapped down with IVs and various medical equipment. My body felt heavy, and my head throbbed with a dull ache. I looked around, trying to piece together what had happened.

The room was sterile and cold, with the faint scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Nurses moved around quietly, checking monitors and adjusting equipment. I noticed the album beside my bed, its cover slightly crumpled but still intact. I smiled, knowing it was unharmed.

Just then, a doctor came in to check on me.

"You're awake," he said with a warm smile, but I could only stare at him, too weak to say anything.

He proceeded to tell me how I had almost been hit by a bus, but thankfully the driver stopped just in time. Out of shock, I had fallen and hit my head on the pavement. He said I was lucky to be alive.

I sighed internally, knowing I had almost missed one of the best concerts of my life due to my own foolishness.

He continued to tell me they had been able to contact my parents thanks to my student ID, which I had on me, and they would be here soon.

I offered a weak smile, which he returned. He asked me more questions about how I was feeling and proceeded to check me just in case. When he was done, he called one of the nurses and whispered something into her ear before leaving.

As soon as he left, the nurse held up a syringe with a clear liquid. "This is just a sedative to help you rest," she said in a soothing tone. "You need to get as much rest as possible to recover properly."

Before I could ask any questions or protest, the nurse carefully injected the fluid into the IV drip. I felt a strange, warm sensation spreading through my arm, and my eyes grew heavy. The room seemed to blur around me, and despite my efforts to stay awake, sleep began to pull me under.

"Just relax and let yourself rest," the nurse said softly. Her voice sounded distant and muffled as if I was drifting further away. I tried to stay awake—perhaps I was just too stubborn as always—but with each blink, the world around me grew fainter until everything vanished completely. I was surrounded by darkness, the album in the corner being the last thing I remembered before succumbing to a deep, untroubled sleep.

I didn't know how long I had been asleep, but when I woke up, the sun had completely set.

There was only one nurse left, standing in front of a patient. I was thirsty, and I tried to sit up, but my head was still throbbing, making it painful to move.

I lay there, swallowing my saliva to quench my thirst, but after a while, it became unbearable.

"Nurse," I whispered, hoping she would hear me. "I'm really thirsty. Can I have some water?"

Thankfully, I noticed she paused, which meant she heard me, and then she began to turn to face me.

"You see me?" she asked.

An odd question that caused my brow to furrow in confusion. What does she mean by "you see me?" I thought to myself. Of course I see her; she's standing right in front of me.

I nodded. "Yes, I see you." My voice was still weak, so it was barely audible.

Suddenly, she smiled and began to walk towards me. At first, I sighed in relief, but then I noticed that with each step she took closer to me, her smile spread wider.

I gasped as her eyes turned black, her neck began to stretch and twist unnaturally. What was this? Was this the side effect of the accident? Was I hallucinating? This couldn't be real.

I wanted to scream, to call for help, but my voice was trapped in my throat. Perhaps it was because I was thirsty, I didn't know. Sweat trickled down my neck, and I began breathing heavily.

This had to be a nightmare. That was the only reasonable explanation for this. I was still asleep, so I closed my eyes. I would count to five, and everything would be back to normal.

I started counting in my head. Once I got to five, I opened my eyes, but you can imagine my horror when I saw her face inches away from mine.

She tilted her head to the side, and her smile reached her eyes. Literally.

I held my breath and tried to shift my body, but I was paralyzed by fear.

Sweat dripped down my forehead, mingling with the pain that throbbed through my head. I could barely breathe, and every breath seemed to make the situation even more terrifying.

The nurse—if she could even be called that now—was standing by my feet, but her head was twisted in a way that made it look like she was peering at me from above.

Her head was just inches from mine, and the way her smile seemed to stretch with a life of its own made my skin crawl.

The nurse's mouth opened, revealing rows of sharp, uneven teeth. "Do you see them now?" she whispered.