prologue
"I’m Not Dead"

Manhattan Sewers

He didn't know how cockroaches managed to sound so loud in his already aching ears, but he wished the damn things would just stop and let him rest. Quietly rest.

Crawling around in the disgusting underbelly of Manhattan, a part of him just wanted to give up and die--he'd tried, he'd failed, and it was over.

But that was the weaker side thinking. That was the part of himself he's tried to bury--the part of him that would always tell him to give up.

But the strong side of himself, the part he worked so hard to become, knew he couldn't give up. There was always another way. Always another plan.

He could do it. He could rise again.

He just had to remember the keep breathing.

He'd managed the slow the bleeding partially, though he didn't know how much good it was doing. He'd barely slept, and felt like he'd been crawling around for days. There was no way he could tell how long he'd been down there.

He sucked in a deep breath and coughed, blood spewing from his mouth, the taste of iron making him sick to his stomach. Tears streamed down his bloodstained cheeks, but he had to ignore the pain. He didn't know how the hell he was still alive, God only knew it hurt enough to kill him, but he thought it better not to question it. He just had to stay focused, keep looking ahead, and ignore the fact that he was slowly bleeding to death.

He needed help, but he doubted he'd find any in the sewers unless rats now had medical liscenses. His vision was blurring, what little he could see slowly disappearing. He felt his life draining from him, but he couldn't let go. Not yet--not ever.

He'd worked too damn hard. He'd come too damn far.

Not yet...

He coughed again. More blood.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and continued on, dragging his half-dead body through the sewers.

For a split second, he saw heaven. Chance. Hope. He blinked to make sure he wasn't delusional, and indeed, he wasn't.

Light.

The faintest trace of twilight seeped into the darkness, and he saw an absolute vision of beauty.

A ladder--leading up to a half-open manhole.

Now, he just had to find the strength to climb.