65 Frames Per Second

I hear a pop followed by a blood-curdling scream as a recent graduate from our rival High School collapses onto the sand like a rag doll.

The air thickens and my vision seems to slow to 65 frames per second as I register the war erupting around me. We are under attack.

Before I can fully grasp what’s happening, my legs are propelling me away from the crashing waves, towards the hotel, my sight narrowing in on the illusion of safety.

Disoriented. The air like molasses. What is happening?

Sensory latency is the time it takes for an electrical impulse to travel from a point of stimulation on a sensory nerve to a recording electrode. Mine is delayed.

Inches from the hotel I glance back. I see the familiar long blonde hair of my best friend buried under a mass of five men, their fists show no mercy.

I run back into the war zone.

Looking back now, I’m acutely aware of the deep-seated protective instinct I hadn't known existed within me at the time. I was only 17.

The memories from that night are scattered, and dulled by time, but I remember seeing myself from above like my mind had been pulled out of my body.

I see the glint of a bottle and the weighted force behind it hurtling towards my head. My arms are extended, reaching towards the girl I’d spent 7 years, 28 seasons, countless memories with. If only I could reach her, grab her hands, and pull her to safety...

Then, everything goes black. There is no time or space.