The Life and Death of May Martinez

Prologue: Dead Twice Over

Thy say you die twice, once the moment your heart stops beating, and again the last time someone says your name. But in my opinion, it's a lot more complicated than that. After all, what would life be if we could explain everything in one simple saying?

I think you lose and gain pieces of yourself as your life rises and falls, twists and turns. And, as I lost those last, precious fragments of my very being, as they were shed like feathers from a moulting bird, I fell down, down, down until rock bottom was there to greet me like an old friend. A horrible, painful, ever-infuriating companion who I had the misfortune to know for far too long. Someone who eventually, unfortunately, brought about my untimely end.

But, if we were to go by the aforementioned logic, I am not yet dead. After all, so many people are still saying my name, whether to lament or laugh, cry or smile. It's easier for them, though. I think it's more painful to watch without being able to influence, like I do. I think it's better to sob than to do nothing, sitting as if chained, like I am.

But you don't care what I think. It's okay, I really don't mind. Actually, I'm not entitled to blame you in the slightest, because according to my logic, which I tend to favour heavily over philosophical sayings, I am, in fact, dead. Deceased. Departed. Gone.

And I'm not coming back.