Death is My Best Friend

 Death had always been a significant part of my life, as it is in everyone’s. Even those fortunate enough to have not yet experienced the death of someone close to them, death is the one thing in this world that never changes. Ever since I was a child I had been in and out of the hospital due to my infamously weak immune system. The nurses even reserved me a room with the name “Rachel” across the door in big black letters. I grew up walking the halls of the hospital, listening to the harrowing sounds of a flatline or seeing people being fed through a tube. If I were to make a new friend within the hospital, usually some poor unfortunate child like me, they would either heal and leave or die. As much as I tried, I couldn’t ever seem to get the idea of Death out of my head and Death became my one and only everlasting friend. 

                One of my most vivid memories within the hospital was from when I was ten. I remember hearing the sounds of my mother crying. She sat outside of my room, only the wall dividing us. I recall laying there in my bed for hours, staring at the dark ceiling, finding something oddly calming in the sounds of my mother’s tears. I somehow knew that even though my mother was crying, she would continue to grow stronger and stronger for each day my immune system couldn’t. While moments like that one always gives me hope in the future, I often find myself wondering what I would’ve become if I had taken my last breath on one of those late hospital nights.

                While the beginning of my high school life was less than ideal (I switched to online school), I learned many valuable lessons. During freshman year I began seeing Death in places besides my head, I started seeing it in people. For example, if I were to look into someone’s eyes, the smell of a corpse would flow up my nose and I would be punched in the gut with the feeling of disease. No matter what I did or what I said, this curse would continue with me for the rest of my life. My solution? Never look into the eyes of another person unless absolutely necessary. I payed very close attention to this resolution until a special person came along, my best friend, and crush, Georgia. Georgia and I had met online, and immediately became internet best friends. When I was 16, I finally met Georgia in person after finding out that we lived only several blocks away from each other and from the very first time I laid eyes on her, I was convinced she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. The summer of 2016 was the best summer of my life because of her, only for Death and I to wreak it all.

                The day in which I lost Georgia took place at the end of August, one week before my online school started and two days before Georgia was shipped off to boarding school. The two of us had been inseparable, spending each day together, cherishing our time. On this particular day, Georgia was calling to me from the bonus room. “Rachel! Hurry up and get changed, I want to beat you in Mario Kart!” I chuckled at her eager tone and went to my bedroom mirror to make sure I looked presentable. I gazed at my figure, black ripped jeans, white band shirt, tan skin and freckles. Before I had even finished observing my outfit, I heard an impatient groan from the bonus room. Rolling my eyes, I scurried through the hallway and into the bonus room, plopping down beside Georgia on the couch.

                Georgia was right, she did end up beating me in Mario Kart. She leaped from the couch, dancing and flailing her arms about victoriously. The two of erupted into a laughing fit, clutching our stomachs and rolling about on the floor until neither of us remembered what we found funny in the first place. I was hit with a sudden wave of love and appreciation for my friend. Before her, I had never really had a true friend and didn’t plan on having one. However, Georgia basically forced me to talk to her online and our relationship has been a whirlwind ever since. I gazed over at Georgia, her strawberry blonde hair spread around her head like a crown, leggings covered in lint from the carpet. She continued to giggle adorably and I couldn’t withhold the overwhelming urge to tackle her. I slammed into her and only after a few moments of struggle I successfully pinned her against the floor. I sat in her lap, both of laughing and struggling for breath. I smiled down at her, fighting my urge to look her in the eye. I felt happy from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, Death seemed like only a figure of my imagination.

                As our breathing slowed, the air in the room changed, the mood becoming very serious. I realized I wanted to kiss her, and as if on cue my body started gravitating toward hers. As our faces got closer and closer, I searched her mouth for any sign that she did not want the same thing I did, yet I did not find any. I could feel the sweat accumulating on my hands, the chills running down my back. Our faces became so close that I could feel her breath passing from her lips, the heat radiating from her skin. My eyes traveled up every feature in her face, stopping just below her eyes. I figured if there was a time to risk it, the time would be now. I inhaled a shaky breath and looked into her blue eyes. I saw nothing less than my entire universe, my future. My breath left me and I felt my heart break into a thousand pieces only to repair itself. I didn’t smell any corpses, I couldn’t hear the distant beep of a heart monitor, I could only feel her. Completely lost in her eyes, I was caught off-guard when Georgia brought her head from the ground and crashed her lips into mine. The world seemed to click into place, every troubled part of my life morphed into a singular puzzle piece that would complete the image. Every nerve in my body turned to fire, every thought in my mind to fireworks. However, as if with the flip of a switch, my mind became blanketed in darkness, my nerves turning to hellfire, my thoughts into flames.

                Images of Georgia flashed through my head, clouding my vision as if I was looking through a camera lens. Only these were not memories of Georgia, these were images of Georgia with a terrifying expression, Georgia’s body contorting as a car ran through it, Georgia lying in the road, bleeding, pale, lifeless. My mind raced, repeating the images over and over while I could only watch helplessly. The familiar feeling of dread and grief filled my body, shook my bones. The images began to fade into black and I felt myself drift back into reality. When I came to, I found myself curled into a ball against the corner of the room, my throat straining from the inhumane screams I was making. My hands were clutching the sides of my head as I rocked back and forth on my haunches. I gazed around the room finally realizing that I hadn’t left the bonus room and it had all been in my head. My screams came to a halt and I stared at my broken, shaking hands. My confused mind raced with questions but the most urgent was my need for Georgia. I found her, on the opposite side of the room, alive and breathing. My body flooded with relief until I noticed her expression. She was pressed tightly against the door, her face twisted into a mask of fear, obviously afraid of something in the room. I slowly realized that it was me she was so afraid of. My heart sank as I realized that Death had now taken the only part of me that I was sure was mine, my memories.

                The next several days after the bonus room incident were spent alone in my room, the occasional meal slid past the door by my parents. My parents could never understand what I was going through but they understood what I needed. I was constantly checking my phone for any contact from Georgia. She had run out of the house after my episode and I hadn’t heard from her since. I made it a mission to block myself from the outside world through several layers of blankets which I had wrapped around me. At around midnight, on day four of my isolation, I heard a soft knock on my door. The door was slowly opened by a figure holding a bowl of ice cream. The person sat on my bed, set the ice cream on my nightstand and enveloped me in a hug. I recognized the figure as my mother and the warmth from her hug spread through my entire body. I released a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding and relaxed into my mothers embrace. Her soft hands sorted through the blankets until she found me. She grabbed me by my sweatshirt and pulled me to the surface of my ocean of blankets. She put her hand on my wet cheek and I was in to much of a daze to stop her.

                As soon as her hand touched my face, images like the ones from the day in the bonus room, invaded my mind again only this time, they were of my mother. Images of my mother lying in a hospital bed old and frail, the heart monitor flat-lining, a mother squeezing her daughter's hand one last time. The images repeated on a loop in my head, splitting my brain and heart in two. I woke from my episode, the images fading into darkness, eventually giving me back to reality. I found myself laying in my mother’s arms, sobbing with such a force I was shaking. Tears flowed down my cheeks and my mother only hugged me harder. I held onto her, confused and scared, clinging to her as if she was the only thing keeping me from spiraling into darkness, which she was. We stayed like that for what seemed like hours until I eventually fell asleep, exhausted. From that day on, when someone touched me, I would see how they died through images, flashes in my head. Throughout the years, I would learn that no matter what I did or what I said, I could never stop the images from becoming true.

                All of the things I saw had come to pass. Sixteen years after my vision, my mother passed away from breast cancer at the age of 71. I had been by her hospital bed during her last moments and even as she was taking her last breath, she gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. Likewise, Georgia had actually been hit by a car the night she ran from my house, the night of the bonus room incident. She had been crossing the street carelessly, so eager to get away from my house that she didn’t look twice. I found out about her death a week later and attended the funeral. I remember going through my head anything I could’ve done differently, anything I could’ve said to warn her. I remember feeling responsible, as if I had committed murder, as I gazed upon Georgia’s beautiful face as she lay in the casket.

                I have never, and will never tell anyone about my visions and while I try to keep my distance from human contact, human contact is one of life necessities. Without it, we would die, a person needs the touch of another. I came to realize how important human touch truly is as the years went by. Even now, today as I lay old and shriveled, I relish the moments when I did look into Georgia eyes, when I did feel my mother’s soft hand against my cheek. So, I’m willing you touch him, touch her, tell him, tell her, death could be right around the corner.