I have just updated every chapter in this story, and added a new Chapter 8. Sorry for any inconvenience this may cause, but I needed to correct some errors in order to continue the story properly. This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction. I look forward to constructive criticism and ecstatic recommendations!

This is a work of fiction. I do not own nor profit from Stephenie Meyer and her Twilight series. Nor do I own any of her characters. If I owned Jasper, I wouldn't have time to write. The song, "Objects in the Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Then They Are" is performed by and belongs entirely to Meatloaf. The plot line is strictly my own.

Objects in the Rear View Mirror

Chapter 1 - The End?

I remember clearly the day I died, although I wasn't sure at first that I was dead. Three things happened, one after the other, but close enough together to be almost simultaneous: I felt incredible pain, followed by the absence thereof; My life flashed before my eyes, first slowly and then more rapidly as it continued; and, my best friend, my one and only love, my Angel, lifted me, held me against his chest, and assured me I would never hurt again.

I don't know exactly how the first sign originated. I had just entered my tiny efficiency apartment when a tremendous pain bloomed from the back of my neck. I heard screaming, my own, and drunken, coarse swearing, my Father's. I felt the sharp agony two more times, once in the middle of my back, near my waist, and again in my neck, and then the pain abruptly ceased. I didn't hurt any more, but I also couldn't seem to move. At that point, I was pretty sure I was still alive.

Then the second sign appeared. In movies and books, on TV and in popular literature, people talk about seeing their lives flash before their eyes, when it seems they may be at a particularly difficult crossroad in their existence. I saw it all: my earliest happy years, my sad years, and my terrible years. But people live to tell about the phenomenon, so I thought I might still be alive.

But the third sign sealed my fate. When my best friend, Edward, lifted me gently and spoke to me soothingly, then I knew. I knew I was dead because my first love, my only love, my comrade and best friend, had died in a fiery crash at the tender age of 17, as his motorcycle left the highway and plummeted from a cliff into the sea. I knew that Heaven was sending me my last wish. I saw the goodness shining out of him, as though he was illuminated from within, I heard his soft, distinctive voice, and I felt his fingers gently brush my hair back from my forehead, and I knew: I, Jasper Lee Whitlock, recently 20 years young, with all of my life ahead of me, was officially dead. As the darkness accepted me into its icy embrace, I was sure.

Yes…that was the day I died.