LiviathRose
Eliminating the Heart
Looking for constructive criticism. **
Parts 2 and 3 Coming Soon
One More Life Before I Go
"A woman criticizes her job as a caretaker and is unable to withstand the weight of her mother's death."
"A woman criticizes her job as a caretaker and is unable to withstand the weight of her mother's death."
Throughout life, it is only natural we begin to wonder what our purpose is on this planet and ask ourselves why we are here, to begin with. There are many complicated questions, answers, and decisions that we are faced with throughout this time but when we think we find our purpose, we learn that it may not have been the case. We actually don't learn of our purpose until we transition from life to death and the only thing we know is what we are doing now until then. When things get rough, we wonder why things have gone so wrong and what we have done to deserve such a struggle. But, there is a reason for everything even when it seems all wrong. Every person we meet, every event that happens, every struggle we face. Nothing has ever happened to "just happen." The reason behind it may just be more negative than others, it's logical and a mystery. However, we all are alive to live the same cycle, the cycle of life and death. That is realistic, our true purpose and nothing more nor less. It is just up to us how to live during that time. The wants, desires, tasks, the ideas; they are all added into the cycle.
As for me, perhaps I have one of the less spoken of tasks. Not the one where I rush in determining where you will live or die like a twisted hero of fate, but the one where I watch you die. Like a standby civilian in a wreck of your life. Just, observing silently. Watching the black aura of rotten death seep from your body while the light of hope disappears if any remained. It seems that as of now, it is my duty to watch over the dying. Those at their final hours, I am there to witness it. To watch the transition, and to turn my back heading to the next. I do not work as a caregiver, caring for those in need. I work for Death as the observer and witness to make sure you do, indeed, die. I am His wanderer of many lies and the little bookkeeper of when they died. But there was one life, that I could not turn back on without the grimacing expression like the rest.
When the middle of October rolled around in Ohio, the weather never fitted the season properly. Warm and sunny one moment then the next it would be bitter cold. Even the weathermen could never get it right for the day, making their broadcast unreliable. During that morning, I felt rather melancholy as I watched another man make his slow transition to death. An angry bastard with no care other than himself and the money he possessed. But it was not his day that day, thus, I will be back. Unfortunate, as a part of me was kind of hoping he would as morbid as that may sound. Was getting tired of the poor treatment. Though a death took place I was not ready for, one I could not witness but one I had to prepare for regardless. Like those On-call shifts, no one wants to pick up but had to anyways. Before I could walk out those doors of one life and through another, I received a call from the company alerting me that the police department was in search of me. To be honest, I was partially glad they had a hard time getting a hold of me because I did not want to receive that call. Being in the field, you know what those sort of things mean, and so did the company.
"If you need us, please don’t hesitate to call." A familiar woman said.
I mumbled my thanks hanging up the phone, giving a hesitant sigh as I looked up the non-emergency number to the police department. My client yelled from the other room, being a tad rude, wondering why I was 'hiding'. However, explaining to him again that I needed to make a call to the police department in regards to something as they were originally calling in regards to my mother. I proceeded to ignore him. The client ended up calling his son to complain about how I was not in his line of sight, that I wouldn't sit in the same room with him. Not sure how the conversation ended, but my stay there was terminated early due to personal matters. If it was not one thing, it was another with that selfish man. On that call to the police department, I explained to the officer on the other end of the line that I was the daughter they were looking for. They offered to come to me to talk, but I couldn't allow that due to work policy. Rubbing my brow exhaustedly, I told them I would meet them at the station though I had to ask; "Is she dead?" They were not authorized to tell me, but I already knew as their response was all I needed.
Hanging up the phone, I called the company back and asked one of them to meet me at the police station as it felt it would be hard to go alone, which respectfully, my boss took on that role. She was a kind woman, though rather selfish, and I didn't care for either one of them at the office as they all seemed to be stuck up their own arses. Of course, being the first to arrive at the station, the dreadful wait began like a game of hide and go seek. Let the little girl that hid inside my heart disappear deeper before the boogeyman could find her. Let me hide inside the trunk of my car, and pretend it was all just a game. Sitting inside my car cooking like a soggy potato as I watched the police cars make their rounds, observing the area, my thoughts raced with every possible way to convince myself that this wasn't happening and she was just in the hospital again. Another wreck of hers caused by diabetes and not taking care of herself. Very anxious, knowing what was about to be said but could not comprehend it inside my head and there were no tears forming in my eyes as I was in disbelief. The night before after coming home from a shift, I made a call to my mother asking her to bring a notebook for documentation on one of our newer clients we shared. The conversation was quick as our relationship was anything but strong, but she still said "I love you" at the end of most conversations we had. That night I didn't say it back as I was still upset over something she had done. Little did I know that would have been my last chance to say it because I regretfully hung up on her afterward.
After what seemed like hours, my boss pulled in with the company vehicle. The chrome lettering reflected from the sun flashed in my eyes, the black SUV parked just a few spaced down. She didn't realize I was still in my car, as she called my cell phone. I didn't answer and just walked outside to wave her down. Her blonde hair tickled various parts of my face from the breeze as she walked up to hug me silently and guided me inside with her arm around my shoulders. Our body language was like a game of charades, one being resilient yet needy and the other being sympathetic and ignorant. We both knew what was about to happen but no one wanted to say anything, it was just- awkward. To be fair, she put up a better front than I had expected her to, people always seem so emotional and I could never understand the reasoning behind it. Not yet anyway. Approaching the counter of the police department, I stepped away from my boss and directed my attention to the woman at the desk. A middle-aged woman, with brown hair, met my gaze.
"May I help you?" The clerk almost sounded annoyed.
The sarcastic me almost wanted to say; No, you can't. But instead, I continued to play the shy and innocent girl everyone sees."Ah, yeah. My name is Sophia, I was told to come in about my mother."
The clerk's tone changed a bit, softer. "Oh. Let me go get him."
Death, in general, never bothered me. Death was natural and simply the purpose of our life. Couldn't attend funerals because of not being sympathetic towards others, which I like to say I tried for some. Instead, I would hang around in the back or outside until everything was said and done. When people cried even in general, parts of me would close up as I stood there next to them like a stiff pole. It made me very uncomfortable and never knew what to do or say to make things a little better. Yet, growing up, no one ever comforted me through my pain other than my mother occasionally. She would cry with me or hold me as she ran her hand through my hair. Everyone else simply used the "suck to suck" attitude. The outcome left me less spoken, and a little bitter with some things. Unfortunately, what she did for me, I could not do for other people to comfort them. I still felt confused when presented with various different emotions like I had to question why they felt that way because of simply not understanding. However, today, I think I learned.
We stood around for a moment waiting for whoever it was to greet us. It didn't take long before two men in uniforms walked through the secure, metal doors to greet us. Could tell they didn't know who to be talking to when they saw us just standing there. I introduced myself as so did my boss and letting them know she was not of any relations, just a "good friend". One was much older than the other, good looking men regardless. The older officer, the Sergeant, did most of the talking though didn't say much right away. The policemen took us to another room which turned out to be their meeting room and we all sat down rather awkwardly. The Sergeant was blunt, which I liked as I was no cookie cutter either.
"Listen, I am not going to sugar coat anything. You are here today because earlier this morning, your mother was found on the scene, dead. My partner and I were the first ones on the scene responding to a call informing of a wreck."
The Sergeant proceeded to tell me the information while his partner would glance between my boss and I. It took a moment before either one of us begun to cry though I remained silent while she did the talking for me. There was nothing then and there that could have been said from me to make things any easier. My mother died from a wreck. Or, so we think. Running into three telephone poles resulting in the whole front end gone. But there were no markings on her body other than some scratches. No severe injuries. Some think she died before it happened. Others think it was whiplash. One thing I do know is I never received an answer. My mother had a few other run-ins with death throughout her life from poor choices but managed to make it out. So, she said, "God doesn't want me nor does the Devil, so, they keep throwing me back up here." Well, hate to tell you this mom, but they wanted you this time. Just don’t know who.
During the conversation, I felt disconnected from the group. Didn't give much input and wasn't very responsive to their questions as I just gave simple nods. All I could think was, "That woman, my mother, dead? Impossible, I just talked to her last night." Anger piled on to what already lingered in dormant, with nowhere for it to be directed to. So, I continuously attacked my mental state adding to the tears flowing down my cheeks. Telling myself it was my fault, on repeat. Should have told her I loved her. Should have moved in with her when she asked instead of with my Grandfather. If taken the opportunity, moved in with her, just maybe I would have been able to stop her in the morning. Realized her sugar was low and shoved a gallon of juice down her throat while pumping her with food. Then maybe she wouldn't have wrecked, just been pissed at me for calling her out on her low blood sugar. But, a part of me knew this was coming sooner or later, she was never going to make it to elderly anyways. My mother was a diabetic, ate whatever she wanted, depressed, and suicidal in the guise of not taking care of herself. Growing up, calling 9-1-1 was like a ritual every day for my mother.
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"Yeah, my mom is having a diabetic attack. I'm scared, she's acting weird." The little version of myself would say.
When my mother was having one of her episodes, it would alter her mental state. Sometimes we switched roles where I played the mother and she played the daughter or she becomes a scary monster. There I have witnessed many scary outbursts, watched her tackle a door and slam her face into the cement, wreck into things with her car due to becoming unconscious or deciding to go full speed ahead, wreck with me in the car, lash out at people and so forth. Each episode was like a game of twisted rapid chess; make a decision as fast as you can but don't make the wrong one or someone might die. Yet, through it all, I have never witnessed her dying because she always came back around. The local emergency departments knew our names by the time I was eleven give or take. As the years went on, they would compliment how much I have grown each time and ask me how school was going. Though to be honest, not very well and I felt like I was raising a child at such a young age. When confronting my mother about her sugar being too low or too high, she would get mad and start yelling. Knew all of her signs like the back of my hand, I had to if we were to live another day because if she wasn't going to who was? Oh, suppose that was my job. Don't get me wrong though, I don't hate her for it. Maybe knowing what being a child was like would have been nice instead of some doctor. But now it has come back and bit her in the arse because now she is dead.
By the end of it all, the room felt oddly cold and my body had this tingling sensation pulsating through. There was this unusual pressure on my body as my head spun in circles like a plane going in for a crash landing. I've felt this before, and it usually did not end well. Instead of saying something, I asked one of the officers for some water. The Sergeant went and retrieved me a bottle of water from their personal fridge which was kind of them. Thankfully, I was able to stabilize after hydrating. The officers ended the conversation by offering themselves if I needed anything, gave me their business cards and the Sergeant left. My boss followed after him and went to make some calls to the office. Though his partner stayed behind, and we sat there staring at each other. I felt rather embarrassed and very weak. After some time, small talk turned into shakey conversations as I told him some things that were on my mind about her. "You know, we never really got along," I explained. Though somehow, managed to laugh to hide any sort of true emotion. The young officer tried to comfort me, and if it wasn't for his good looks, he probably wouldn't have gotten far. Couldn't help but to take advantage of a man in uniform even if it was only for about five minutes.
Finally, the young officer guided me out as we said our final farewells and my boss was waiting for me out in the waiting room. She didn't say anything until we walked out the doors with the sun glaring into our eyes drying out the moisture from our tears, to which was a rather uncomfortable feeling.
"I'm sorry for your loss. We are going to give you some days off. Are you okay driving home or I can have one of the ladies drive your car back and I can take you back to your Grandfathers."
Shaking my head, "No, I am fine. Thank you. But if you can follow me back since we're going the same way just in case."
The woman gave me one final hug before we got into our cars and drove off. The first few minutes of the drive was fine, but as I entered the city of Willoughby where I grew up, I couldn't help but to break down and cry even more. Parts of me grew dark and all I could think about was going full speed ahead to catch up with my mother. Though I couldn't, as I had to be there for my son. During so, I called my Grandfather to let him know what had happened. All he could say to me was, "Well, sorry for your loss." Then proceeded to hang up. Your own daughter dies, and that was all you had to say? Guess I didn't expect any less as no one really talked or liked her in the family. The call angered me, even though my exhaustion made it hard to show anything other than complete misery. Like the relationship between my mother, my grandfather and I did not get along very well either. Most of it was due to the constant beatings he would unleash onto my mother as I witnessed it, then another part of it was he would claim I was "just like her."
It was hard to see the road but I managed to get to my grandfathers. The boss pulled in behind me, hugged me quickly and offered her services if I needed anything. Her words were quick and sweet as she quickly left as I walked in. My Grandfather and Cousin were sitting in the kitchen as I walked in, I could hear them whispering and quickly hushing as I approached. No one said anything. Instead, I turned back around and went for my routine walk around the same square in the downtown area like a lost puppy and called it a night.
There, my cousin and I shared the same bed as there was really no room for anyone. Packed like a bunch of sardines, though it was only two of us. We're both bed hogs, so each night was a fight for some space. Name calling, cursing, bitching, that was us. Tonight, none of that took place. Instead, I laid there silently staring into nothingness and in the back of my head, I could hear this shattering noise. Like a mirror breaking. My body felt like it was sinking into the bed and all I could remember was blacking out after feeling what like I was suffocating. What was I going to do? There was no instruction manual for when people died...
As for me, perhaps I have one of the less spoken of tasks. Not the one where I rush in determining where you will live or die like a twisted hero of fate, but the one where I watch you die. Like a standby civilian in a wreck of your life. Just, observing silently. Watching the black aura of rotten death seep from your body while the light of hope disappears if any remained. It seems that as of now, it is my duty to watch over the dying. Those at their final hours, I am there to witness it. To watch the transition, and to turn my back heading to the next. I do not work as a caregiver, caring for those in need. I work for Death as the observer and witness to make sure you do, indeed, die. I am His wanderer of many lies and the little bookkeeper of when they died. But there was one life, that I could not turn back on without the grimacing expression like the rest.
When the middle of October rolled around in Ohio, the weather never fitted the season properly. Warm and sunny one moment then the next it would be bitter cold. Even the weathermen could never get it right for the day, making their broadcast unreliable. During that morning, I felt rather melancholy as I watched another man make his slow transition to death. An angry bastard with no care other than himself and the money he possessed. But it was not his day that day, thus, I will be back. Unfortunate, as a part of me was kind of hoping he would as morbid as that may sound. Was getting tired of the poor treatment. Though a death took place I was not ready for, one I could not witness but one I had to prepare for regardless. Like those On-call shifts, no one wants to pick up but had to anyways. Before I could walk out those doors of one life and through another, I received a call from the company alerting me that the police department was in search of me. To be honest, I was partially glad they had a hard time getting a hold of me because I did not want to receive that call. Being in the field, you know what those sort of things mean, and so did the company.
"If you need us, please don’t hesitate to call." A familiar woman said.
I mumbled my thanks hanging up the phone, giving a hesitant sigh as I looked up the non-emergency number to the police department. My client yelled from the other room, being a tad rude, wondering why I was 'hiding'. However, explaining to him again that I needed to make a call to the police department in regards to something as they were originally calling in regards to my mother. I proceeded to ignore him. The client ended up calling his son to complain about how I was not in his line of sight, that I wouldn't sit in the same room with him. Not sure how the conversation ended, but my stay there was terminated early due to personal matters. If it was not one thing, it was another with that selfish man. On that call to the police department, I explained to the officer on the other end of the line that I was the daughter they were looking for. They offered to come to me to talk, but I couldn't allow that due to work policy. Rubbing my brow exhaustedly, I told them I would meet them at the station though I had to ask; "Is she dead?" They were not authorized to tell me, but I already knew as their response was all I needed.
Hanging up the phone, I called the company back and asked one of them to meet me at the police station as it felt it would be hard to go alone, which respectfully, my boss took on that role. She was a kind woman, though rather selfish, and I didn't care for either one of them at the office as they all seemed to be stuck up their own arses. Of course, being the first to arrive at the station, the dreadful wait began like a game of hide and go seek. Let the little girl that hid inside my heart disappear deeper before the boogeyman could find her. Let me hide inside the trunk of my car, and pretend it was all just a game. Sitting inside my car cooking like a soggy potato as I watched the police cars make their rounds, observing the area, my thoughts raced with every possible way to convince myself that this wasn't happening and she was just in the hospital again. Another wreck of hers caused by diabetes and not taking care of herself. Very anxious, knowing what was about to be said but could not comprehend it inside my head and there were no tears forming in my eyes as I was in disbelief. The night before after coming home from a shift, I made a call to my mother asking her to bring a notebook for documentation on one of our newer clients we shared. The conversation was quick as our relationship was anything but strong, but she still said "I love you" at the end of most conversations we had. That night I didn't say it back as I was still upset over something she had done. Little did I know that would have been my last chance to say it because I regretfully hung up on her afterward.
After what seemed like hours, my boss pulled in with the company vehicle. The chrome lettering reflected from the sun flashed in my eyes, the black SUV parked just a few spaced down. She didn't realize I was still in my car, as she called my cell phone. I didn't answer and just walked outside to wave her down. Her blonde hair tickled various parts of my face from the breeze as she walked up to hug me silently and guided me inside with her arm around my shoulders. Our body language was like a game of charades, one being resilient yet needy and the other being sympathetic and ignorant. We both knew what was about to happen but no one wanted to say anything, it was just- awkward. To be fair, she put up a better front than I had expected her to, people always seem so emotional and I could never understand the reasoning behind it. Not yet anyway. Approaching the counter of the police department, I stepped away from my boss and directed my attention to the woman at the desk. A middle-aged woman, with brown hair, met my gaze.
"May I help you?" The clerk almost sounded annoyed.
The sarcastic me almost wanted to say; No, you can't. But instead, I continued to play the shy and innocent girl everyone sees."Ah, yeah. My name is Sophia, I was told to come in about my mother."
The clerk's tone changed a bit, softer. "Oh. Let me go get him."
Death, in general, never bothered me. Death was natural and simply the purpose of our life. Couldn't attend funerals because of not being sympathetic towards others, which I like to say I tried for some. Instead, I would hang around in the back or outside until everything was said and done. When people cried even in general, parts of me would close up as I stood there next to them like a stiff pole. It made me very uncomfortable and never knew what to do or say to make things a little better. Yet, growing up, no one ever comforted me through my pain other than my mother occasionally. She would cry with me or hold me as she ran her hand through my hair. Everyone else simply used the "suck to suck" attitude. The outcome left me less spoken, and a little bitter with some things. Unfortunately, what she did for me, I could not do for other people to comfort them. I still felt confused when presented with various different emotions like I had to question why they felt that way because of simply not understanding. However, today, I think I learned.
We stood around for a moment waiting for whoever it was to greet us. It didn't take long before two men in uniforms walked through the secure, metal doors to greet us. Could tell they didn't know who to be talking to when they saw us just standing there. I introduced myself as so did my boss and letting them know she was not of any relations, just a "good friend". One was much older than the other, good looking men regardless. The older officer, the Sergeant, did most of the talking though didn't say much right away. The policemen took us to another room which turned out to be their meeting room and we all sat down rather awkwardly. The Sergeant was blunt, which I liked as I was no cookie cutter either.
"Listen, I am not going to sugar coat anything. You are here today because earlier this morning, your mother was found on the scene, dead. My partner and I were the first ones on the scene responding to a call informing of a wreck."
The Sergeant proceeded to tell me the information while his partner would glance between my boss and I. It took a moment before either one of us begun to cry though I remained silent while she did the talking for me. There was nothing then and there that could have been said from me to make things any easier. My mother died from a wreck. Or, so we think. Running into three telephone poles resulting in the whole front end gone. But there were no markings on her body other than some scratches. No severe injuries. Some think she died before it happened. Others think it was whiplash. One thing I do know is I never received an answer. My mother had a few other run-ins with death throughout her life from poor choices but managed to make it out. So, she said, "God doesn't want me nor does the Devil, so, they keep throwing me back up here." Well, hate to tell you this mom, but they wanted you this time. Just don’t know who.
During the conversation, I felt disconnected from the group. Didn't give much input and wasn't very responsive to their questions as I just gave simple nods. All I could think was, "That woman, my mother, dead? Impossible, I just talked to her last night." Anger piled on to what already lingered in dormant, with nowhere for it to be directed to. So, I continuously attacked my mental state adding to the tears flowing down my cheeks. Telling myself it was my fault, on repeat. Should have told her I loved her. Should have moved in with her when she asked instead of with my Grandfather. If taken the opportunity, moved in with her, just maybe I would have been able to stop her in the morning. Realized her sugar was low and shoved a gallon of juice down her throat while pumping her with food. Then maybe she wouldn't have wrecked, just been pissed at me for calling her out on her low blood sugar. But, a part of me knew this was coming sooner or later, she was never going to make it to elderly anyways. My mother was a diabetic, ate whatever she wanted, depressed, and suicidal in the guise of not taking care of herself. Growing up, calling 9-1-1 was like a ritual every day for my mother.
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"Yeah, my mom is having a diabetic attack. I'm scared, she's acting weird." The little version of myself would say.
When my mother was having one of her episodes, it would alter her mental state. Sometimes we switched roles where I played the mother and she played the daughter or she becomes a scary monster. There I have witnessed many scary outbursts, watched her tackle a door and slam her face into the cement, wreck into things with her car due to becoming unconscious or deciding to go full speed ahead, wreck with me in the car, lash out at people and so forth. Each episode was like a game of twisted rapid chess; make a decision as fast as you can but don't make the wrong one or someone might die. Yet, through it all, I have never witnessed her dying because she always came back around. The local emergency departments knew our names by the time I was eleven give or take. As the years went on, they would compliment how much I have grown each time and ask me how school was going. Though to be honest, not very well and I felt like I was raising a child at such a young age. When confronting my mother about her sugar being too low or too high, she would get mad and start yelling. Knew all of her signs like the back of my hand, I had to if we were to live another day because if she wasn't going to who was? Oh, suppose that was my job. Don't get me wrong though, I don't hate her for it. Maybe knowing what being a child was like would have been nice instead of some doctor. But now it has come back and bit her in the arse because now she is dead.
By the end of it all, the room felt oddly cold and my body had this tingling sensation pulsating through. There was this unusual pressure on my body as my head spun in circles like a plane going in for a crash landing. I've felt this before, and it usually did not end well. Instead of saying something, I asked one of the officers for some water. The Sergeant went and retrieved me a bottle of water from their personal fridge which was kind of them. Thankfully, I was able to stabilize after hydrating. The officers ended the conversation by offering themselves if I needed anything, gave me their business cards and the Sergeant left. My boss followed after him and went to make some calls to the office. Though his partner stayed behind, and we sat there staring at each other. I felt rather embarrassed and very weak. After some time, small talk turned into shakey conversations as I told him some things that were on my mind about her. "You know, we never really got along," I explained. Though somehow, managed to laugh to hide any sort of true emotion. The young officer tried to comfort me, and if it wasn't for his good looks, he probably wouldn't have gotten far. Couldn't help but to take advantage of a man in uniform even if it was only for about five minutes.
Finally, the young officer guided me out as we said our final farewells and my boss was waiting for me out in the waiting room. She didn't say anything until we walked out the doors with the sun glaring into our eyes drying out the moisture from our tears, to which was a rather uncomfortable feeling.
"I'm sorry for your loss. We are going to give you some days off. Are you okay driving home or I can have one of the ladies drive your car back and I can take you back to your Grandfathers."
Shaking my head, "No, I am fine. Thank you. But if you can follow me back since we're going the same way just in case."
The woman gave me one final hug before we got into our cars and drove off. The first few minutes of the drive was fine, but as I entered the city of Willoughby where I grew up, I couldn't help but to break down and cry even more. Parts of me grew dark and all I could think about was going full speed ahead to catch up with my mother. Though I couldn't, as I had to be there for my son. During so, I called my Grandfather to let him know what had happened. All he could say to me was, "Well, sorry for your loss." Then proceeded to hang up. Your own daughter dies, and that was all you had to say? Guess I didn't expect any less as no one really talked or liked her in the family. The call angered me, even though my exhaustion made it hard to show anything other than complete misery. Like the relationship between my mother, my grandfather and I did not get along very well either. Most of it was due to the constant beatings he would unleash onto my mother as I witnessed it, then another part of it was he would claim I was "just like her."
It was hard to see the road but I managed to get to my grandfathers. The boss pulled in behind me, hugged me quickly and offered her services if I needed anything. Her words were quick and sweet as she quickly left as I walked in. My Grandfather and Cousin were sitting in the kitchen as I walked in, I could hear them whispering and quickly hushing as I approached. No one said anything. Instead, I turned back around and went for my routine walk around the same square in the downtown area like a lost puppy and called it a night.
There, my cousin and I shared the same bed as there was really no room for anyone. Packed like a bunch of sardines, though it was only two of us. We're both bed hogs, so each night was a fight for some space. Name calling, cursing, bitching, that was us. Tonight, none of that took place. Instead, I laid there silently staring into nothingness and in the back of my head, I could hear this shattering noise. Like a mirror breaking. My body felt like it was sinking into the bed and all I could remember was blacking out after feeling what like I was suffocating. What was I going to do? There was no instruction manual for when people died...
Parts 2 and 3 Coming Soon
