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May 12th, 1994
I gasped, breathing in a stinging sensation that spreads wildly across my chest.
Dust moves with my body...
What happened...?
Oh.
Oh...
Immediately, an overwhelming sadness floods my being and I struggle to inhale. My chest feels heavy, like if i laid pounds of bricks upon it.
Music bumps through the soft walls of the apartment, blocking the sounds of my agony. I sob. I cry. I break.
"No." I would have rather die, than feel all of this. Everything hit me with ten times the impact, like a semi truck. Tears fell out of my eyes, like a stream and I struggled to keep up with wiping them away.
Words can't help me, can't describe any of this. This is wrong, it's so wrong. This wasn't what was supposed to happen to me... I was supposed to grow old, find someone or something, have purpose and settle when I needed to.
I looked down at my hands...
I am so wrong.
This isn't even me, at all.
I wasn't even at home... I was on the very other side of town, all alone.
I weakly push myself up off the floor, and the sunlight hits my eyes. I guess getting your neck snapped fucks you up, because the migraine that trailed the inside of my skull felt like an ice pick jabbing me.
"Ah," I groaned slightly, stumbling to my balance and started rushing towards the door. I said a silent prayer for hope beyond the door, something that can push me to make it home.
-
My clock ticking comforted me, as I settled onto the floor of my kitchen because I was home.
I silently hoped that magic had saved me, because the alternative would mean... a lot. A lot of things that I would never be ready for, things that would ruin me.
I looked at the phone, longing to call my parents for some sort of relief but I looked away and decided to remain alone.
That night would be my one day off, but I considered calling in to ask for an extra day or something. "Hey, a guy with fangs snapped my neck and- oh! did I tell you I'm a witch?"
I laughed dryly at the excuse that was unfortunately my surreal reality. My gaze found the patterns of the tiles on my kitchen floor...
A line here... a line there.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5-
I got the sudden urge to call my friend, Adrianne, because she'd know... know what to do about my situation.
