Jack doesn’t really like to talk about it; bad enough that he has to experience repeated deaths and resurrections without having to relive them to satisfy other people’s curiosity. But if pressed he’ll tell you that it’s like being dragged across broken glass.
That doesn’t really capture the sheer agony he experiences though; he’s not sure anything can. Dying hurts, and sometimes he takes a long time to die, but coming back?
How to you put into words the sensation of bones knitting together, nerves re-growing, tissue and muscles and organs reforming? It’s exactly the same as being injured in the first place, only in reverse and much slower.
You know how it feels when your arm goes to sleep, and the painful tingle when you get the blood circulating through it again? Imagine that sensation magnified a thousand times and applied to your whole body. Then imagine the feeling of sharp, icy knives tearing through your chest as you take that first breath, re-inflating your lungs as your heart hammers painfully against your ribs.
Every nerve ending is hyper-sensitive and scraped raw, even darkness feels painfully bright, and the smallest sounds make your eardrums feel like they’ll explode even while the rest of your body feels crushed beneath the weight of your own existence. Small wonder that he flails in blind panic during those first few moments of life, grasping for anything he can find in order to anchor himself.
No, Jack doesn’t like to talk about it, and he’d give his life to never have to experience it again.