172,800 Seconds

My alarm is ringing beside me. But I'm content to lay and stare at the ceiling. I can feel my muscles twitch in a way that stems from immobility. My mattress is caved in from the constant weight of my broken body and the dark blue comforter on top of me is soaked in sweat from the extended amount of time I've spent laying without moving. I can hear my alarm increase in volume. I groan and throw the device to the floor, rolling back over to continue making shapes out of the popcorn tiles above me. 

Her laugh was like honey, her smile as bright as the sun, but her eyes were dark and cool and used to make others give in to her wants. We walked miles, hand in hand, only stopping when the street lights became our guide's home. We sat on park benches and talked about the future we would have, and then we'd judge the future of the strangers that passed. It was perfect. All it ever could be. All I would ever need. But perfect means nothing, in a world made of imperfect things.

“Do you think that if I died, you'd be able to move on?” I looked down at her, with her head laying in my lap. We were sitting on the grass, watching the eclectic groups of people walk by. I brushed a piece of hair away from her eyes and laughed at the question she asked me.

“Now why would you ask me that?” 

“I don't know. But accidents happen all the time. People get sick. Sometimes people just don't want to live. Anything could happen.” She was serious now. Her smile twitched at the ends of her lips, finally giving out as she looked up at me.

My brow wrinkled as I thought about what she had asked me. “Are you dying?” 

“No.” 

“Do you plan on dying?”

“No.” 

“Are you sick? Cancer? Some incurable disease that they'll name after you because you're so special not even normal diseases can best you?” 

“No, no, and I never want them to name a disease after me. Then I become the killer in another person's story.” She sat up and seemed to ponder that idea.

“Then why, are you asking me what I'll do if you die?” My voice rose slightly.

“I don't know. I guess I was just curious.” She seemed to shrink back into herself. I quickly put my arms around her and told her I was sorry. My voice only rose because I didn't want to think about those possibilities.

Finally I said, “Fine, I'll concede.” I placed my chin on top of her head and breathed in deep. “If you were to die, call it a freak of nature accident, or one more thorough and extensive, I would simply have to die too.” 

The answer Id given mustve be the wrong one because I could feel her muscles tense and her words came out in a rushed attempt to convince me otherwise.

“No. You can't do that. Promise me that if I die, you'll find someone else. A friend or a new girlfriend or someone who can make you want to live. If I can't be here on earth to watch you be happy, then I want to be looking up from hell and see you smiling down at me.” 

I looked at her, but didnt say anything. Instead I placed a quick kiss on her lips, then leaped up and began running in the opposite direction, calling back to her to chase after me.

By the next day the conversation had been forgotten and replaced by matters of family and talks of marriage. 

“My mom wants to know if you have plans to propose to me anytime soon.” She giggled as she asked, using one hand to cover the phone as she spoke.

I looked up at her and smiled. “Tell your mom she’ll know when, I promise.” She relayed the message and then laughed at something her mom said in reply. I stood up and kissed her on the cheek then left to go to work. 

That night when I got home I found her sitting on the couch with her brow furrowed and a serious expression on her face. She was scrolling on her computer and didn't notice me when I came in. I went and sat by her on the couch and looked at the screen of her computer. She finally noticed me and gave a muttered ‘hi’ but continued to watch her screen. She was looking at an insurance website.

“What are you doing?” I asked. 

“I'm looking at life insurance. I'm not sure how any of this works, though.” She still had yet to look at me, so I tilted her chin up to my face and forced her eyes to meet mine.

“Rachel, I thought we talked about this.”

“I know, I know.” Her eyes went back to the website again. “But, I just… What if something happens Ezekiel?” 

“What, Rachel? What is going to happen that will make you feel the need to take out a life insurance policy at the age of 27?” Her constant worry about dying was starting to get on my nerves.

She stayed quiet then and closed the computer, but she didn't turn back to me. Instead she stood and went to the kitchen where she took out a glass and chugged down water. Then she braced herself on the edge of the sink and sighed heavily. I stood and hugged her from behind, breathing in deeply to lock the memory of her in my mind. 

“I sound crazy, don't I?” She turned and looked up at me.

I looked down at her and smiled as I pushed her hair back behind her ear. “No, you don't sound crazy.”

“Most 27 year olds don't spend day and night worrying about dying and leaving their boyfriends behind with nothing.” I laughed softly and her expression softened a bit in response. 

“I'm glad you spend time worrying about me, but that should be my job.” I bent down and kissed her softly, reassuring her that her worries were just that, only worries.

The next day when I got up to leave for work, she was still asleep beside me. I looked down at her and let myself briefly think of what could happen if she was right. But just as soon as I started, I forced myself to stop. Worrying about future events only brought pain to the present.

Later, as I was leaving the office for lunch, I got a call from Rachel telling me she wanted to bring me lunch. We decided to meet at the same park as before and have a small picnic before I had to head back to work. I smiled, now reassured that she knew her worries were for not.

As I was walking away from the building I saw a woman running across the street at the next block's intersection. Cars were coming from both directions but she was attempting to run across anyway. I started to run towards her, yelling that she needed to move, but she was too far away to hear and continued her dance across the road. Suddenly, a truck turning the corner ahead of her came barreling through. They hadn't seen her and attempted to turn the corner as she came to the end of the crossing. Within seconds, the woman's body had disappeared from my view and my stomach churned at the thought of walking over and seeing what had been done. 

The driver of the truck jumped out of the side door and ran to the front, but quickly stopped moving any closer. His hands flew up to cover his mouth as a woman waiting at the crosswalk screamed. Cars on all sides were stopped now, people running from them leaving their doors flung open in the middle of the intersection. Someone screamed to call 911 while others screamed because of the blood now visibly running across the concrete.

As I approached, I caught a glimpse of a familiar yellow dress laying in the road. My heartbeat rose and the noises around me started to blur to one big buzz. I ran to get around the truck, but stopped the second I saw her. 

Rachel. 

Her hair was matted with the oozing red liquid and her arms were laying across her stomach. Her legs were folded beneath her in a way that would make even the strongest of stomachs queasy. All at once, the world stopped moving. The screaming beside me nulled to a low hum and the sirens approaching seemed to echo in the hollows of my skull. I dropped to my knees beside her body and reached for her. There was blood everywhere. It soaked through her yellow dress and stained my hands as I tried to fix her. Tears burned through my skin and words left my mouth, but all recognition of their meaning was lost. Everything from that moment on was a dream, a nightmare, a blur, almost nonexistent.

I remember sitting in the back of the ambulance, then the waiting room in the ER. I remember seeing her parents rush in, her mother screaming at me, her father stoic but angry. I remember the doctor coming out, saying she was in surgery, and hours later, he came out again and said she was out, but she was in a coma. Medically induced, because her body was giving out and she might not get to heal. I remember losing all control and then forcing myself to regain it. And then I remember being told I wasn't allowed in the room because I wasn't family.

I got home that night and found myself numb to everything

Flames. That's the only shape I can see. It's stuck in my brain like a tattoo, appearing on all of the walls, the ceiling, even the carpet. My arms are stuck to my side, seemingly glued in place. My head hasn't moved from my pillow in 2 days, and the basics of human anatomy seem to be swallowed by the flames around me. 2 days, 48 hours, 2,880 minutes, 172,800 seconds without a call. No updates. Radio silence. I had thought about going to the hospital to check again, but was warned not to by Rachels brother, who had come over to tell me nothing had changed. He told me they wouldn't let me in, and sitting in the waiting room would only aggravate their parents, so I stayed home, burning in self pity and a loss of faith in humanity.

I should've taken her worries seriously. I should've told her I was fine with eating lunch alone. I should've ran faster when I saw the blur of a body running across the street. I should've done something. Because now, now I can't do anything.

172,801. 172,802. 172,803. Would she make it? 172,805. 172,806. 172,807. I should've done something. 172,809. 172,810. 172,811. I don't deserve her anymore. 172,812. 172,813. 172,814, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20…

My phone starts to ring beside me.