Cold

I–I don’t know what’s going on… Open your eyes

Why can’t I open my eyes? 

They feel heavy, so heavy. 

It's almost impossible but I feel a shockwave go through my body, through my toes, then to my head in a second. I inhale the crisp cold air. My eyes were blinded by the burning white light surrounding me. I blink rapidly to force the pain away…where am I? Regaining vision I see my apartment entryway.

Did I fall asleep on the floor?

I shook my head at myself and chuckled, of course, I would do that.

As I get up with a slow fumble feeling faint, I hold onto the back of my couch. I inhale and exhale through my mouth. 

God, why does my body ache this bad?

Jesus, I'm only 25. I go to the kitchen to make some coffee, hoping that heals all my aches. As the kettle boils water, I check my phone. It's 6:25 a.m. on October 13th. The kettle starts to yap that it's ready. A shiver runs down my spine. 

Is the heater off? 

I question myself. I don’t believe so, but it feels like a freezer in here. I pull my sleeves over my hands to try and fight the bite. As I bring the mug to my lips I hear something shatter. I turn my head quickly. Puzzled. A burst of yells occurs. I move to my door knowing the voices to be my neighbors Lucinda and Big Lou… big asshole right there. I rush to my door and pull it open to see if Vic, their 6-year-old, is out by the stairway. He tends to hide there when his parents fight, who can blame the poor kid? I see his frail frame on the top stair, fiddling with his fingers.

“Hey bear, want some breakfast?” my voice echoes through the building. 

He lifts his head almost owl-like and turns to me, with a gummy smile, his two front teeth missing.

“Yes please, thank you, Miss Honey,” he says in his sweetest voice.

I shake my head as I can’t help but smile at this sweet boy. I’ve known him since he was 3 when I first moved here after I had to leave my entire life behind. He was sitting the way he was before on the steps, perched. His eyes glossed as if trying to escape what was happening around him. He has dark bags under his eyes that make him look older than he is. 

“Mama is getting hit again,” he says nonchalantly as he picks up his spoon to eat the cereal I know he likes. I nod in acknowledgement not knowing what to say to ease the heavy air surrounding us. I feel a shiver run down my spine. 

“Is it just me or is it cold in here?” I say out loud hoping to break the icy silence.

“Just you. I feel fine, are you getting sick?” he says with a raised brow. 

“Ya, I think…I’m fine, I’m gonna go grab a sweater.”

I get up and walk to my room. Inside, I have a small closet, where I grab a blue sweater with red poppies painted onto it. Poppies are my favorite flowers, they represent hope and remembrance. I was given red poppies from the social worker who helped me leave my shit ex-husband. I blink rapidly hoping the pain of the memories may vanish. It doesn’t but I put on my sweater and walked out to see Vic had disappeared as he normally does. I swear this kid is like a ghost. I pack my purse up getting ready for work. I shuffle around my apartment in search of my keys. 

Damnit. It's 8:15 am. If I don’t leave now I will most likely be late for work. I pray I left my keys in my car like I’ve sometimes done after a long shift at the hospital. The joys of working in healthcare. I rush to the door hastily to lock it before I leave. I enter the hallway ready to hear the screams of my oh-so-wonderful neighbors. I wait…nothing. Huh? That's weird. They always argue in the morning. I look to where their door is and it's open… I’ve never seen that door just open like that. Vic’s parents love to slam doors closed and keep everything behind those closed doors. Focus on yourself. Honey, come on, let's go to work. I argued with myself, contemplating whether I should go see what's wrong or go straight to work, but my job outweighed my concern. I rush downstairs to the lobby. As I opened the door to the main street, I felt the shift. My chest burned. I opened my mouth to wail in pain... then I felt my vision blur and everything went black.

…

I feel myself regain consciousness. My head is pounding like a rock had been thrown at it. 

What happened? 

I gain the strength to open my eyes and to my shock, I’m back on my living room floor. I quickly get up to go out my front door only to be greeted by Vic as soon as I flung it open. He quickly analyzes my disheveled look.

“Miss Honey, do you know what's going on?”

He seems unsure when he says this as if he is looking for answers but holds them as well.

“What do you mean?” I sigh in response. He holds out his hand for me to take. Unsure, I put my hand in his. He leads me up the stairs to the 5th floor of our apartment. Apartment 533 is where he stops.

“In there, you’ll see…I’m sorry Miss Honey” he has tears welling up in his eyes. I am utterly confused. 

“Vic I can’t just go into a stranger's apartment, what do I need to see?” I prod. I don’t even know what is transpiring. I feel my head start to throb again. I feel something in the pit of my stomach grow. Maybe a gut feeling? I try the door and as I start to clutch the door knob I realize I can’t feel the knob at all. My hand goes through it. I stare in both horror and disbelief. I feel a strong shove. Vic shoved me into the door but I didn’t hit it... I went right through it. 

I stared at an apartment with the same layout as mine. I didn’t know how to process this. I stood frozen in shock with words that did not exist for how horrified I was. On the floor is a woman with 6 puncture wounds to her chest, her eyes blue but they lack the light of a soul. I want to scream. I want to throw up, do anything, something but I can’t… because she is me. I’m dead. That’s not the end. No, it’s not because right next to my body is Vic’s. His soulless eyes stared up at the ceiling. I fall to the ground. The words are on repeat.

I’m dead. 

Vic is dead.

Lucinda is dead. 

Al is dead.

And countless more bodies lay on the floor overtop of each other like they were worthless. All eyes – brown, green, blue – soulless, staring up at the ceiling. I finally scream. I wail. How does someone deal with this? I feel the throb in the back of my head return when a memory flashes. I was coming back from my night shift at the hospital… I had entered the lobby when he was right there waiting… to claim me. I was the only person that had gotten away from him. Well had been. 

His smirk. 

My face.

I knew at that moment he had won. God… fuck you. I got 3 years. 3 fucking years. Death was in the lobby and he had his face. He shot me after he confessed he had already killed everyone in the building. He was death in its most unforgiving way.  I get slapped by the realization that I did this. My past followed me here. My ex-husband walks out of the kitchen with a steak knife. Still on the floor, I feel Vic standing behind me. I want to cause this man pain, but he got to me first. 

“We have to go Miss Honey.” 

I don’t ask where. I simply follow. I’m sorry my life didn’t have a happy ending. You know it actually sucked. My ex-husband who I found out was a serial killer after evading him for 3 years… he won. Fuck the world. Fuck this lifetime. 

“How do you console the dead?" I ask myself. This lifetime was robbed. My lifetime was robbed. 

Life sometimes sucks. Sorry. People die. I died. Death comes for us all one way or another. Death is unforgiving and cold. So cold. Death is what connects all. No one is immortal and believe me when death comes it shatters worlds. I walk into the unknown. No longer angry, sad, happy just… warm. I hold Vic's hand as we venture into the unknown. This is the end of the story. My story. Sorry it wasn’t happier. Lord knows I wanted it to have been.