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Warm

Have you ever been cheated?

By Bruce ArnoldPublished 6 years ago 4 min read
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Another volume for the shelves, another tale of woe. The depression of my life snakes its way through my mind and down my arm to the fingers that hold its escape. I stared at the paper, my eyes following the quick strokes of my pencil as I laid my woes into my journal. Many people had told me it would or should help after I refused to take drugs. According the psychiatrist, it was supposed to alleviate some of the stress on my mind, free my thoughts of such negativity. I never saw it as negativity, though. It was just me facing the truth that was many times avoided. Each entry had the date at the top of it and contained every “bad” thought I’d had that day. Most of them started with the insistence of my parents to take the drugs that had been prescribed for me. I refused, just as I had always done.

Today, something different happened, though. They didn’t insist upon them. In fact, they didn’t even mention them. I stopped writing for a moment and thought about it. They always made time to suggest or ask if I would take them today. What changed all of a sudden? Did they trust me not to make another attempt on my life? I started writing again. It didn’t matter. I still knew that when I tried again, I wouldn’t fail.

“I don’t think you should be trying at all,” a voice said.

I stopped writing and looked up from my journal. Standing at the foot of my bed was a girl in a long white dress. She had no hair and her eyes had dark circles beneath them like she hadn’t slept in days. They were also very dim like she was tired, but the tone of her voice suggested she was full of energy.

“Who the fuck are you?” I asked.

“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t really have a name anymore.”

“Okay, so what was your name before?” I asked. “And who let you in my room?”

“Can’t say,” she answered. “I don’t really remember it. Oh, and you let me in.”

She put her finger against her bottom lip and rolled her eyes to her forehead like she was thinking. I blinked a few times and then dropped my pencil in the journal. This had to be some sick joke. I went to call my mother from downstairs but the girl stopped me.

“Cancer,” she said.

I stared at her, a little confused, before asking, “Is that your name?”

“Oh no,” she said. “I’m just pretty sure that I died because of that.”

I laughed a little and then nervously said, “Yeah. Sure. Died.”

I started to call my mother again but she cut me off with a question this time.

“Why do you want to die?” she asked.

“I don’t think that’s any of your bus..." I started.

She stared directly into my eyes and cut me off. “You have a pretty good life. What makes you wanna leave it so bad?”

I stared back, trying to make my annoyance of her apparent. “Why the fuck are you here?”

“Why are you getting so angry?” she asked.

I sat up on my bed and crossed my legs in front of me. “Alright. I’ll bite. You here to change my mind about life?”

“Nah,” she said. “At least I don’t think so.”

I took in a deep breath to keep from going off on her. “Leave. Now.”

She laughed and sat down on my bed in front of me with her legs hanging over the edge,. “I’m not sure I can do that either.”

Something in her eyes shifted and my heart started racing. Why was I suddenly afraid of this girl?

“They say death is a one way street,” she said. “But no one ever said anything about making u-turns. You ever felt cheated?”

I swallowed a lungful of spit and gripped the sheets of my bed. Something wasn’t right.

“I died,” she said, “and I don’t even remember my name. I do remember how warm life was, though.”

She moved closer to me and put her hand on my knee. I looked down at it and then back up at her face. Her eyes looked so innocent but something else behind them terrified me. I went to call my mother again, but my lips wouldn’t move and no sound rose in my throat. My heart thundered in my chest and my breathing quickened. She smiled.

“You tried to leave, didn’t you?” she asked. “You don’t like the warmth.”

I couldn’t even answer or move. My entire body felt like it was paralyzed. The only thing I could move were my eyes.

“Would you mind giving it to me?” she asked.

I tried to say no, to shake my head, to do anything, but I was stuck. She didn’t wait for an answer, either. She just leaned closer to me until our faces were inches apart.

Then she put her finger on my bottom lip and pulled my jaw down. My mouth hung open against my will as I sat frozen in front of her. Tears started streaming down my face as I struggled to do something. What was going on? Suddenly, her eyes filled with black and she opened her mouth and crammed it into mine. My heart skipped a beat, my breath stopped, and I felt myself fade until everything was gone.

I opened my eyes again to the sunlight filtering in through the window. I looked down at my arms and waved my right hand through a ray of sunshine. I smiled. My name was Marcus Nitwick and the sun had never felt so warm.

fiction
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About the Creator

Bruce Arnold

I write. It's unclear to me if I am any good so I could use feedback. Let me know if I could improve on anything. My Instagram is @kalthurduran

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