***

I can remember the first time I ever thought about death.

Patricia, my second grade teacher, was teaching us about the Big Bang. Many of the kids with religious backgrounds had been pulled out of school that day, their parents claiming they'd caught the winter flu.

"The entire universe was about thousands of times smaller than the tip of this thumb-tack," Patricia held up a bright orange one, and I felt my eyes fall to it. I was finding it hard to imagine something thousands of times smaller than a tiny little pin.

"Then, one day- bang!" Patricia expanded her arms as far as she could, her face painted with excitement. "It exploded, and the universe expanded billions of times over. After billions of years, the world was created along with hundreds of other planets, moons, and stars."

The room chattered with excitement and everyone shot their hands up high, waiting to ask questions. I didn't share their enthusiasm.

Patricia answered every one of their questions with a big smile on her face, even drawing some planets on the whiteboard for those who asked.

I felt myself being filled with a new kind of anxiety. Not the kind I got when my dad had made me tryout for the school's t-ball team, nor the kind that I'd get when my math teacher Kurt asked me to solve a multiplication problem in front of the class.

This was different- it made me scared for my future, it made me feel small.

Because if the Big Bang created the universe and all living things, what was everything before that? Or was it just... nothing?

"Evan, do you have any questions?" Patricia had asked me, and I looked around noticing everyone else had their hands down.

"Um..." I tried to think of something to ask, but my mind had only been focusing on the negative sides of what she'd explained. "What was before the explosion?" I asked, quietly.

"Great question! There are a lot of theories out there. Many say there was probably nothing, others think it's possible that there was another universe."

I nodded slowly, not feeling any better. Patricia waited patiently for me to ask something else, before looking back to the class and opening her mouth to speak again.

"-But," I interrupted, trying to ignore the weight of everyone's attention on me. "How could there be nothing?"

"It's just a theory, everything has to start at some point."

She kept talking, but I ignored her.

What is nothing?

What was I before I was born? I had no memories from then, I couldn't even remember anything from five years back. Was that what happened when my favorite blue fish, Merlin, had died? His brain turned off and he was consumed with nothing for the rest of time?

Is that what would happen when I'd die? Nothing?

It was all too much for me to think about. Patricia brought out a big puzzle of the solar system, and while everyone rushed to start solving it, I snuck out of the room, my body filled with dread.

I hate space.

I ran to the back of the playground, and sat under a small, bushy tree protecting me from any prying eyes.

I tried to think of what nothing would even look like. The closest my mind could get was pitch black darkness, but even that was something.

Is that what would happen to my parents? They were much older than me... my mom had told me she'd always be there for me. Was she lying?

"Are you crying?"

I was startled, confused how anybody had seen me. The boy had an excited, mean look to him. Like he was searching for someone to pick on.

I wiped my eyes, recognizing him as one of the fifth graders that'd hang out with Rowan during lunch.

"No."

"You were totally crying." He laughed and my jaw clenched. What business of it was his?

"Go away."

He ignored me and called someone over, still laughing in arrogance.

My mom had always taught me to treat everybody with kindness. You never know what other people are going through... did other kids not listen to their parents? Or maybe they weren't told the same things I was.

I wiped my eyes again, before crawling out from under the tree. His interruption had taken my mind off the idea of death, but I could feel the thoughts lingering in the back of my consciousness.

"Wait," he grabbed my arm. I didn't like the way his hands gripped me, like a hawk's talons tightly digging into its prey. His eyes caught someone behind me and grinned. "Come look, this kid is crying, probably something to do with space week."

I felt my throat constrict and tried to prevent any more tears from spilling. Why was this random older boy set on humiliating me?

My eyes watched the shoes of his friend approach, hoping he at least cared about the school's zero-tolerance towards bullying rule.

"So?" The other boy said, and I spared a glance at his face before taking a step back in surprise.

Rowan looked bored with his hands in his pockets. I couldn't tell if he recognized me at all from a few years ago. The wall around him had started to build.

"So? It's pathetic."

Rowan's eyes narrowed before flickering between the boy's hand on my arm and my eyes. He seemed to be in a bad mood, like maybe he'd just been told off by a teacher for something.

"Let go. You're hurting him."

The boy tightened his grip harshly before letting me go and crossing his arms. My other hand subconsciously covered my arm, I hoped it wouldn't bruise. My mom would hunt down the kids' parents and force some sort of apology, which would only make him pick on me again.

"Dude, what's with you today?"

Rowan frowned at him.

"I'm sorry I don't feel like picking on a second grader." I briefly wondered how he knew what grade I was in, he'd shown no signs of recognizing me at all. "But he clearly wants to be left alone. So let's go."

I released a breath as the boy left my side, shaking his head at Rowan.

Rowan gave me a confused frown, as if wondering whether or not to stay. But he turned back and headed to class with the other boy.

After school, my mom comforted me, telling me we have spirits; and even after we die our spirits live on in the world, through those who love us.

I felt like she made that up to make me feel better. She'd been taken off guard when I'd come home crying about the idea of death.

I remember wishing I'd been raised in a religious family. Whether their ideas, gods, or scriptures were right or not in the long run, at least they had something to give them peace during the time they were actually alive.

That night I closed the curtains in my room all the way. I didn't want to see the moon, the stars, or the dark sky.

***