(The text in italics are thoughts and mind-speech or telepathic speech either way you want to say it.  

Alex cursed when the handlebar of his motorcycle grazed a car as he passed by, Zipping around the city traffic.

“Get back here you stupid teenager!” the driver of the car yelled.

Alex glanced at his rear view mirror, and saw the man’s fist pummeling the air through the open drivers side window.

Alex winced, but didn’t stop. His motorcycle thrummed under him, roaring like a wild animal on a rampage. His bike slipped through the narrow gap in between cars the wind whipping through his hair.

As usual, there was a lot of traffic on a Saturday, but with the bike he could get through most jams. He gripped the handlebars, gearing up as he sped out of the city towards the suburbs.

Alex shifted side-to-side around the many curves, the brisk March wind buffeting against him. His jeans, thick leather jacket, and gloves protected him against the chill wind. His heart raced with the speed. It was like flying. The rumbling of the beast beneath him gave a sense of danger and superiority. He was in control.

Coming around a curve, the squat form of a lumbering van came into view ahead of him. His tires squealed in protest as he squeezed the brakes.

“Damn!”

Cars were coming from the other direction blocking his advance. He gritted his teeth, wondering how long he’d be stuck behind the van. It wasn’t like he was in a hurry, he just hated waiting.

Despite a large hill that blocked his view around the curve, he took the opening as soon as he saw it. He gunned it, and the motorcycle growled and shot forward. He had almost cleared the van, when a truck came into view around the curve, barreling toward him.

Alex gripped the handlebars harder and accelerated. “I can make it. I can make it,” muttering under his breath.

Then with a jarring impact his back tire clipped the oncoming truck and he was spinning. Somehow, he missed the van, now behind him. His tire hit the edge of the ditch, and with a jolt he flew in the air.

“S**t!!!”

He hurtled towards the ditch, windmilling his arms. Before impact he had the sense to curl up into a ball, and protect his exposed head. Finally with a crack and a stab of pain, the darkness swallowed him.

***

It wasn’t just darkness.

There was a complete lack of light, sound, smell, and warmth. Alex panicked, searching the void for anything to latch onto and orient himself. The only comfort was the lack of pain.

He couldn’t feel any part of his body, or anything else for that matter. Was he floating?

What’s going on?

A pinpoint of light appeared in the inky blackness. Alex’s mind greedily latched onto it like a drowning man. As if by willpower alone, he moved closer to it, or it grew larger. It was hard to tell in this strange place, with nothing to use as a landmark.

Eventually the darkness faded and light, color, and sound returned as the world sprang into view again. The relief was brief, though as the crash scene appeared. His bike was in pieces in the ditch. The once sleek lines of the Nightwing CX20 motorcycle were now a mass of broken metal.

A sense of loss pierced him. He had been so proud when he had gotten it, using money he’d worked hard to save from stock investments. The van and truck from earlier were both nearby. Police and an ambulance were also on the scene.

Then he saw his body.

A couple of medics were working on him. Blood poured from a nasty wound near the back of his head, matting his hair and making an ugly mess. One of his arms and a leg were bent at unnatural angles.

Am I dead? I don’t want to die.

“You want to live?” a coarse male voice interrupted his thoughts.

Alex looked around, but couldn’t see anyone that might be talking to him.

“Yeah, I don’t want to die. Who would?” Alex said, not sure where the voice was coming from.

Alex looked down and realized his body was naked and transparent. He touched his arms with his ghostly hands, and it felt surprisingly solid. Alex turned as he saw his physical body put into the ambulance. The siren blared as it started off. As if tethered, he followed after it.

“At the rate you’re going, you will soon die,” the voice spoke again.

Somehow he could sense eyes on him. The gaze felt strangely tangible. It reminded him of a chill or goosebumps, and he shuddered.

Was the voice right, was he going to die? He hadn’t thought about life and death before.

He moved closer to the ambulance, and entered through the back doors. Medics were working frantically on his battered body.

“There’s still no heartbeat, try the defibrillator again!” one of the medics said.

Another medic held the shock pads and moved to place them again. His body twitched and jumped as the charge shot through it.

“Can you help me?” Alex asked desperately, but hesitated to commit. He had a feeling the voice was after something.

But why was he so worried? His life sucked anyway, would it be such a bad thing if he died?

However, the fear of the unknown was much larger than the fear of what he knew. He would rather go back to his messed up life than risk who-knew-what in the afterlife, if there was an afterlife. The thought of everything ending, with nothing to show for it, was frightening.

“I can,... if you let me borrow your body occasionally,” the strange voice answered.

The machine monitoring his heart flat-lined. He was running out of time. Alex had to act. He had to take what he could get. He’d worry about the consequences later. What other choice did he have? It was either take the offer or face death.

“I agree. Help me -fast!”

The voice growled triumphantly and with a whoosh, Alex was pulled inside his body.

As the darkness rushed in, the beep of the heart monitor resumed.

***

As consciousness returned, so did the pain. Alex’s whole body hurt, but it felt dulled and distant. A soft beeping and whirring seeped into his slowly-wakening mind. He was about to force his heavy eyelids open, when a loud voice boomed from close by.

“You better keep this fiasco out of the news,” a man bellowed from the hall. “I don’t need this mess ending up in the papers and on TV. Who’s in charge here? I want to speak to the doctor taking care of my son, and find out how long I have to keep him in this place. I want him out of here.”

“Please sir,” a much softer, feminine voice spoke. “Keep your voice down or you’ll upset the other patients.”

“You should be more worried about upsetting me!”

Alex groaned and opened his eyes. My father? Hah, can’t believe he’s here. He’s never cared about me before.

The fluorescent light of the hospital made his eyes water. He squinted through half-closed eyes, and wasn’t surprised to find he was in a private room.

The last thing he remembered was flying through the air.

His right leg and arm were both in casts, the leg suspended in a sling. Tubes and a mask covered his mouth and nose making movement of any sort uncomfortable. His father, David Kent, strode in with a middle-aged man in a doctor’s coat.

David wore an expensive suit, his posture straight and proud. He towered over the much shorter doctor, a scowl spread across his chiseled face. His gray eyes were cold and his brown hair slicked back. He didn’t look like a man who’d just been told his son had been in a horrible accident.

Next to David, the doctor was carrying a chart his brow wrinkled in confusion at David’s attitude.

“Ah, so you’re awake,” David stated as soon as his eyes landed on Alex. “Thanks to your reckless riding, I’m wasting precious time and money. I hope you appreciate that I made time to see you, despite my busy schedule.”

The doctor’s brow rose and his eyes widened in shock.

Alex rolled his eyes and sighed, not surprised by his dad’s attitude. The company was more important to David than anything else. Alex was more shocked that his dad had bothered to come at all.

David was obviously only concerned about the possibility of negative press and how it would affect his image.

Alex didn’t get him. If he cared so much about it, what about the doctors? Their opinion didn’t seem to matter.

“I’m Dr. Randal, and I’m in charge of Alexander’s case,” the doctor hesitantly interrupted, moving closer to Alex. “Alexander’s condition is surprisingly good. Because of the head wound and the fact that his heart stopped, there was a high chance of brain damage. We ran several tests after we rushed him to the ICU, but we didn’t find any serious damage. Once we had him stabilized, we moved him here. To be safe, he will stay on oxygen for at least another day or two, depending on his condition.”

Dr. Randal turned to Alex. “You have about eight stitches in your head, a broken arm and leg, and significant bruising and small cuts. You will have to be in the hospital for at least 10 days or more.”

“Well, it’s good you didn’t die now, isn’t it?” his father grunted as he turned around to leave.

Dr. Randal’s eyes widened in surprise, “Wait sir! Since Alexander is a first-time patient here I need you to answer some health questions, and sign some…”

David glared at Dr. Randal and the doctor stepped back, his forehead dripping with sweat.

“Show me what to sign, but for any questions talk to Alex or my secretary,” David ordered, looming over the shorter man.

Dr. Randal shook as he handed Mr. Kent the clipboard. David signed the papers with a quick flourish and left without another word. The doctor stared at his retreating form, and even after he was gone stared at the closed door.

After a few moments he turned to Alex. He examined the boy’s eyes, having him look left and right. Then he checked his blood pressure, as well as the machines monitoring Alex’s vital signs.

“I need you to answer some health questions. It will be alright to remove the mask while you talk. This is important in case you have any issues that could cause complications later.”

Alex nodded and removed the mask, clearing his throat so he would be ready to speak. He was able to go over the parts that referenced himself or his father, but when the doctor asked about his mother…

“I’m sorry doctor; she died soon after I was born. I don’t know anything more than that. Father’s secretary might have her health data, but he doesn’t talk about her to me,” Alex said in a scratchy voice.

The doctor’s face fell, and then softened in sympathy. “I am sorry about that, and I will contact the secretary as soon as I can.” He paused for a moment, looking like he was unsure what to say next.

“It is remarkable that you seem to be recovering so well. Based on the paramedics’ report, you were in bad shape. When you arrived, you were barely breathing and you had heart murmers. The surgery went well and you are healing fast. In fact, if I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn't have believed such a quick recovery was possible.”

Dr. Randal looked away, clearing his throat. Alex could tell that he wanted to ask him more questions, but didn't want to be rude.

“The nurse will come by to check on you every few hours. Press the call button if you need anything,” Dr. Randal said. He checked the machines once more before leaving.

The days at the hospital were lonely and boring, the time crawling past. The only entertainment was the television in his room and some magazines he got from the nurses.

Other than his father on the first day, he had no visitors, though his ninth grade class sent a token flower basket. The nurses kept giving him pitying glances when they checked on him or brought his food.

The whole hospital had probably heard his loudmouth father.

Exactly 10 days later the hospital released Alex. The family car was waiting out front when the nurse wheeled him from the hospital.

Along with a maid, cook, and butler, Alex now had a male nurse to take care of him. He felt humiliated, even though it was necessary until he could walk again.

The servants had moved his room from the second floor of the mansion, to the main floor. He hated the huge house.

Alex wanted his own living space, but his father said he didn’t want to cough up the money. What David really meant was he wanted Alex to stay where he could keep an eye on him.

As Alex was wheeled into his new room, he felt the familiar walls of the house surrounding him again like a prison… hopefully his plans to escape weren’t ruined by the accident.