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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Mystery · #2334791
The last 30 seconds of the last 7 minutes.
30 seconds.
Sand in my eyes and salt in my wounds
mother bent over me like a sun-shade
the upward curvature of her lips
no larger than that of her bottom eyelid
the blood trickles, trying to escape
but mother traps it with a cotton dam
the arms of the band-aid hugging mine
and wouldn't let go for the next three months.

29 seconds.
My blanket felt warmer
the sun embedding its heat into the fabric
filtering through the glass of the window
and felt it welcoming my eyes they opened
the window was dark, and my gaze adjusted the same.

28 seconds.
Crawled under wood while smelling burnt wood
doesn't make you feel safe.

24 seconds.
Eight people died
eight trees lived
eight stars in the sky
reflect obliviously in my eyes
zero lights left undimmed.

23 seconds.
Among those eight people
were my mother.

22 seconds.
Father said her funeral was short and sweet
but that night, her blood was warm and dark
like chocolate but not
because I knew blood tasted like metal
like the coin collection my grandfather had
and the array of kitchen knifes
but blood tastes like the rusty metal
the tainted one, that makes you gag
and when father said that I gagged
because nothing's sweet about blood.

21 seconds.
Father died
he overdosed.

14 (39) seconds.
Not on drugs
something like it.

13 seconds.
I had a feeling I was just unlucky
maybe it wasn't me
but everyone around me
and I'll watch them suffer every day
for the rest of my life.

12 seconds.
Outside the window
a new window
it was cold out
rainy too
have you seen freezing rain?
bet you haven't, 'cause it's almost
invisible
but you've heard it
the continuous tapping on the window
eliciting my stare though nothing's there
like a million little needles prodding at the glass
poking and prodding at my skin
and making little holes
welcoming the unwelcome.

11 seconds.
A thought comes to mind
I remembered
my sister was outside that day.


8 (00.656.) seconds.
That day
she pushed open the door slowly
the door made of wood
the swirls in its figure
like a hallucination
the door was moving slowly
part of the hallucination
and distracted
I almost thought the bruises
hiding under the collar of my sister's blouse
were part of the hallucination too.

8 seconds (continued).
Mother and father were there too
and my sister finally entered the house
they were worried
the crease between their eyebrows
matching the color of her blisters
matching the tension in their questions
I couldn't see her face
she wouldn't tell them the mister
but only asked them if they missed her
them not me
because they're all dead
but I'm not.

7 seconds.
When I was younger
barely reaching thirteen years
mother taught me how to pop a pimple
but told me to never do it
but I did
because I was desperate
and watched the broken skin
vomit blood and pus into my eyes
grandfather taught me how to use a coin
to get a dollar
didn't live long enough to tell me not to
do it
father taught me how to kill
told me to never do it.

3 seconds.
I had dinner with my family today
all sitting at the table
eating like gluttons
disgusting gluttons
stuffing food inside your throat like you need it
especially father
sat at the table with my dumb dead family
my disgusting dumb dead family.

2 seconds.
Cutting it close
cutting through something
skin
maybe paper
but I couldn't tell the difference
anymore.

1 second left.
Sorry father
I did it.

0.
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