Daylight faded in the hours of my rest. It was 4:00 pm and the sun had set for the day. It must have been the tenth day in a row I hadn’t seen sunlight. I thought it’d be a good idea to walk outside, and so I did. I crossed the street as Stacy and her star bright blonde hair walked past me. I smiled at her. Her eyes squinted and nostrils flared as she gave me a look of disgust. My ears began ringing and my heart started beating faster, and faster.
“Ugh, I can’t stand that!” I said to myself.
My pocket vibrated. My girlfriend calling for the second time today.
“What a bitch! Can she not just leave me alone!”
The dripping sweat from my fore arm trickled down to my fingers. My grip on my phone loosened. It dropped. I reached for my phone, but it kept falling. As my fingers were able to touch it, I felt the world turn. An eternal darkness began to close in from the corners of my eyes to the center of my vision like the closing scene of an old movie. It was darker than the blackness of night. My mind flickered like a light, as my mother appeared crying next to my sisters as they danced with the sadness of the pain I caused.
“I heard it was drugs” said a stranger.
The strangers kept whispering.
“He was always crazy anyway.”
My two high school friends Nate and Mike appeared standing next to each other. Holding my obituary, Nate drew a mustache over my face. They roared in laughter. Another young man dead from _____ read the front page of my town newspaper. Again, my mother appeared with her cried out puffy black eyes. She just rocked in her rocking chair, so slowly.
“You can’t die.” I said to myself.
I shook my head and as the blurred edges of my vision became sharp, I felt my legs moving. I was running. In front of me was Stacy and she was running. It was like we were kids again in the neighborhood playing tag. I laughed at her curly blonde hair flapping like a cape in the wind. My smile faded as I looked down at my hands. To my disbelief, my knuckles were leaking blood. I looked up at Stacy. The tears of terror lying within her eyes and deep scratches on her neck created a lump in my throat I could not swallow.
“Please!” Stacy howled.
But I could not stop running. The vision of Stacy in front of me became blurry as the feeling of being a kid came back again, but not playing games like tag, but when I would lift up rocks in my backyard and millions of ants would come pouring out. They would run frantically. Through this chaos I would put a bucket on top of them. Trapping them. I would laugh when they’d try to climb the walls. I’d give it a kick. They’d fall, get up, and fall again. A useless hope of escape. Next, I’d pour the gasoline on the bucket. After that, I’d flick a match stolen from my father, that created ashes of ants that would warm the cold desires of my heart.