A Secured Limbo

*Trigger Warning* The events in this story were inspired by the recent K-12 school tragedies, pre-COVID.

“If you don’t get married, you will die!” my mother yelled at me as soon as the door closed.

“I’ll die anyway!” I yelled back. “That’s life. Everyone that lives DIES. You and Dad are the ones that don’t get that! I’m tired of having the same argument weekend after weekend! Just stop!”

#

In my culture, at the moment we are born, a seer comes to see our future. Our parents can choose to tell us what that future is, or they can choose to forego and seal that decision in an envelope until the child is ready. My parents chose the former and have spent every waking minute trying to convince me to go towards one future over the other.  

I didn’t believe in the tired tradition this created. I was skeptical of these beliefs; there were no facts to ever prove these vague predictions to be true. People that did believe in them worked to make sure their designated future came into fruition. It was like a placebo to some.  

I especially didn’t believe my prediction granted by my ‘gifted’ aunt Jessica: my future was in limbo. I could either marry and live a comfortable life unhappily or I would die a hero and save thousands of people. There was no inbetween. How would I die? She couldn’t say. Who would I marry? What would determine whether a life is comfortable? For me or for her? What connotes a hero? By when would I have to decide my fate? Those decisions had multiple answers, she said. 

My parents, unfortunately, did believe strongly in the designated destiny and tried to convince me from a young age that happiness wasn’t everything to life. They didn’t want to have to bury me early and pushed me to simply be content by living a long life.

The problem is that I didn’t share their point of view. While I was coddled in my childhood, I was given a library of books and movies to entertain myself. I learned how to dream from a pan-wielding princess and how to fight from an archer. The female guardians and revolutionary ladies fought both alone and amongst the men against injustice. When they fell in love, it was to someone that mattered to them. The love was deep and when the day was done, they were not only happy, but grateful to spend their lives with their partners. I was a dreamer and wanted my life modeled after theirs. 

I was just a few weeks shy of turning 18 and while I was ready to make my own choices, my parents’ own paranoia left them trying to arrange the fastest marriage for me. I didn’t want to get married anytime soon. I dreamt of something bigger, a passionate love and life full of happiness regardless of the length. I wanted to have the freedom to choose my life.

I didn’t believe I only had two choices in life, but if I did, I knew which life I wanted.

#

“Hey, Aurora,” my best friend Preston said, taking a seat next to me. We were in the school cafeteria, waiting for class to start. “Did you have a good weekend?”

I gave him a look. He knew my parents and their feelings about my life prophecy. 

We grew up with each other and have been friends since kindergarten. There was nothing but friendship here; we were way too platonic for even my parents to try to get us together. We were happy about that. I loved Preston, but if I had to marry him, I think we would both gag.

Preston was luckier than I was. He didn’t know his life prophecy; his parents were obviously smart to avoid trying to enact or prevent him from ‘fulfilling his destiny’. Preston wasn’t in any rush to figure it out either. He had the freedom to not fight fairy tales and urban myths created at his birth.

“Who’d your parents try to get you hitched with this weekend?” he asked.

“A son of one of my dad’s coworkers. It’s slim pickings for them.” 

“How old was this one?”

“19.” 

“A nineteen year old trying to get with an almost 18 year old isn’t terrible, but I still feel like it’s creepy.” He shrugged. “Was he cute at least?”

“Ehh. Boring was my word of choice.”

The bell rang, letting us know that it was 7 am and it was time to go to class. Our first period classes were on opposite sides of the building. We hugged each other, and I took the chance to ask him something I’d never asked anyone before.

“What would you do if you were me? Would you get married to save yourself?”

He let go so he could look at me and smiled. “You’ve never been selfish, Aurora. You’re doing what is right for you. That’s the right choice.”

“And it doesn’t bother you? That maybe someday you could see my death reported on a TV screen?”

He closed his eyes. “I’ll know that you did something good for that to happen.” Then he held up his hand like he was swearing into office. “And I’ll make sure we get that nice Viking funeral you’ve always wanted.” There was a teasing tone to his voice although I knew it was hard for him to think about. 

I high fived his hand. “Okay. Fine. Go to class. If I don’t make it to third period, please know that I love you, and I want peonies and the tiny roses on my pyre.”

He laughed and waved a goodbye. “Whatever you want!” 

We started heading in different directions. I couldn’t help but feel a smidge cranky. Monday mornings were  tedious. The weekends were always so exhausting ever since my parents started parading a group of suitors for me to talk to. Homework was then reserved for any time I wasn’t talking to these guys, which sometimes ended up being Sunday evenings. Waking up early for school post late nights was a specific form of hell in a caffeine-free house. 

As I headed to class, I felt something weird in my steps, and I quickly checked the date on my phone. I waddled to the restroom to check for any potential early drop of my period. While in the stall, I sighed in relief knowing that I was not stained, but I was definitely starting my period early. I texted a girl in my class to tell the teacher that I was on my way but had unexpectedly gotten my visit from Aunt Flo and was being delayed in the ladies room. 

I looked through my bag, trying to find a pad or really anything that would prevent me from staining myself. I didn’t want to have to try to get blood out of my jeans; they were my favorite skinnies with the deepest pockets. I found a regular pad, which should work for most of the day. I was not happy by this turn of events regardless, but I was happy to be prepared. 

I quickly got out of the stall and washed my hands, knowing I was going to be super late to class. I was still in the restroom closest to the cafeteria and my class was on the other side of the building. I exited the restroom and started walking fast, feeling the cramps start as I walked. I wasn’t paying attention when I ran straight into an old friend of mine that I hadn’t seen in ages.

“Sorry!” I said quickly while I tried to get back up. Then our eyes met. “Cullen!” I said with a smile. Then my eyes fell on the large gun on his hand.

I felt surprisingly calm. “What are you doing?”

“Go outside, Aurora.” His eyes were cold. There was no smile to his blank face.

“Cullen, you can’t!”

“You were always nice to me. Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Cullen, we are friends, Cullen.” I couldn’t help but keep repeating his name. “Let’s talk this out. Please. You can do so much with your life. I promise. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“It does, Aurora. Move.” He started to shove past me.  

I reached to take his hand. “Cullen, please talk to me.” I got a grip of his sleeve, and he pointed the gun to my chest. 

“Stop. It. Get out of here, Aurora. If you keep trying to stop me, I’ll shoot you myself.”

I stood still for a second. Preston’s face came to my mind. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him. I wanted to go to college. I wanted to experience life and fall in love. But his words rang through me. You’ve never been selfish.

The book heroines wouldn’t just stand here either. They weren’t selfish; their lives were secondary to their missions. I dropped my bag on the ground and took a deep breath, watching the boy that was walking towards a dark path he would never be able to take back. 

He didn’t deserve that fate as much as I didn’t deserve mine. 

I ran. 

I yelled “GUN, GUN, GUN, GUN, GUN!” as loud as I could while I tackled him to the ground. 

He fell forward, and I landed on his back. I wasn’t a heavy person; no matter how much I tried to stay in place, he was very quick to push me off and get back up. I scrambled to my feet when the gun pointed at me, and I grabbed at the gun before some of the bullets shot. I pushed the tip of the gun up so it would shoot over me; my hands were burning as the gun grew hot. The recoil was powerful, and I tried to hold on to the gun the best I could while pointing it away from me. 

I kept yelling, hoping people would hear me, hear the gunshots, and get to safety. I heard running, I heard a loudspeaker, and it all became white noise. Cullen pulled the gun back, and I fell forward onto the floor, still yelling out the word. He pointed the gun at me, and I heard more gunshots. My vision started to blur, and I heard another struggle as I still continued to yell. I reached out and saw Cullen’s Converse sneakers. I grasped his feet and pulled towards my body, barely managing to move him since I wasn’t strong and I was on the ground. 

Then, the shoe soles that were on the ground were now against my face, and a thud followed.  

I kept yelling until I felt someone remove my arms from Cullen. I was flipped over and heard a lull of a voice. I tried to focus my eyes to reveal the face of my English teacher, Mr. Hamill, who was calling my name and telling me things were going to be okay. 

My voice was hoarse. “Is everyone safe?” I asked, taking deep breaths between words.

“Yes, everyone is safe. You’re going to be okay, Aurora. Stay with me, talk to me.”

“Pres...Preston…” I said as I tried to get my phone from my pocket. 

“Preston Wilder. You want to talk to Preston Wilder?” He tried to make out my words.

I nodded slightly. Something cold was placed against my cheek, and I heard ringing.

“Aurora?” the voice was muffled on the phone.

“I...I di-di-didn’t b-b-believe it. I’m s-s-sorry. It’s c-c-c-cold,” I said the best I could. 

“I love you, Aurora. Please don’t die. You’re my best friend,” I heard him say. His voice kept breaking.

“I l-l-love y-y-you, t-t-too. T-t-tell-ll mo-o-m and-d d-dad I l-l-love th-th-them t-t-too.” My eyelids started to flutter.

Mr. Hamill shook my body. “Stay awake, Aurora!”

My chest was hurting, and I looked around, only hearing faint screaming around me. Red blood smeared on the floor. I felt myself off the ground, and I got a glimpse of my pants, wet and now a deep reddish blue color. 

That will be hard to clean, I thought before my eyes rolled to the back of my head, and the world went black.