I can feel the
smell of fuel, dirt and something pungent metallic. It fills my nostrils, penetrating my head before I feel the pain. In that moment of silence before my other senses are assaulted with the destruction around me, I feel at peace. I still feel whole. For some reason, my conscience knows that I will look back on this and wish I had that moment back. I wish I could remember what it was like before.
Pain comes first. Even before my head can clear the fog far enough so I can open my eyes, the pain comes. There are no words to describe the agony of feeling like you have a million knives going into you, tearing you to pieces, only to pull out and start all over again. And one more time. Infinitely.
In that second between unconscious and conscious, I feel this irregular pain. My
