I am going to die tomorrow.

Jazz

by Jazz

Story

I am going to die tomorrow.

Tick, tick. The clock reads 11.38 pm.

I look out of the window. The sky is pitch black and only the moon lights up the night.

No one is near.

I look down at my hands. I think. I think of breakfast, I think of last summer and I think of mother. She was never a kind woman, yet an emptiness has been filling me ever since her death in September.

Tap. Another peddle falls off of the dried flower bouquet she held in her casket, now standing in a vase on my desk.

Tick, tick. 11.47 pm.

I breathe. I try to breathe calmly.

The 5 to 1 exercise. I should do the 5 to 1 exercise.

5 things I see.

The dead flowers, the candle that burned out hours ago, the pile of clothes on my chair, the book “The Wonders of Tomorrow” I haven’t even finished reading, my cat Kyla, sitting on the window sill, sleeping peacefully.

4 things I can feel.

The blood pumping through my veins, my beating heart, the clothes on my skin, the light breeze through the tilted window.

3 things I can hear.

tick, tick, tick. It’s all I hear.

2 things I can smell.

The blood from biting my tongue too hard, the food sitting on my desk since the day before yesterday.

1 thing I can taste.

The tears now running down my face, down to my lips.

I’m calm.

Tick, tick. 11.56 pm.

Now I’m not so sure if I’m really ready. But it’s too late to go back.

I close my eyes, I see my mother. “You’re a failure. You never do anything right. ”

More tears, more blood, more ticking.

“And this is where your life brings you. You never even achieved anything.”

tick, tick, tick, tick, drip, drip, drip.

The blood was now dripping onto the sheets. 11.59 pm.

the ticking speeds up. I look at the clock. 12.00 am.

“I’m sorry Kyla, you don’t deserve this,” I whisper, “I’m sorry mother.”

tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, BOOM.

The bomb goes off and it’s quiet again.

© Jazz 2022-02-16

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