Chapter Thirteen: Free Write


5/1/17


      She puts down the bottle, knowing she shouldn't pick it back up again. Knowing it won't help her pain. Everything is a blur now, but here she sits, not remembering how she even got home today. An ashtray full of cigarettes smoked halfway through, empty beer cans pizza boxes and ice cream cartons litter the floor.
     "How do I stop this ache in my heart?" she wonders out loud. "How can I fix this sickness?"
     "You can't," says a voice, deeper than her own.
     "Who's there?!" She exclaims, turning to the darkened room. Nobody answers. Suddenly a knock at the door startles her. She takes a long swig from her beloved bottle and stumbles to the door, fumbling with the locks. "I said, who's there?!" She yells it louder. Nothing. The knock repeats itself, hollow and haunting, and she throws open the door. The hallway is empty. She turns around slowly and sees an illuminated figure, dressed in white. "Who the hell are you, my guardian angel?" She furrows her brow.
      "Hell no, you wish, honey. I'm Death. I'm here to take you with me." The figure holds out Its hand. She screams, and turns to run out the door.
      "No, please, just give me another chance! She feels a hand on her arm, pulling her back.
      "You had your chance, this ain't a video game. You get no re-dos in life. You wasted your chance and intoxicated yourself to the point of no return." The woman begins to weep, throwing herself to the floor, pounding her fists on the floorboards.
      "What have I done?!" she screams, thinking of the drugs, the alcohol, the men, the people she hurt, and finally, the one person she wished to see one last time. It was too much to fathom.
      Death folds its arms and looks her in the eye. "Give me one good reason why I should grant you this second chance."
      She stands on her feet slowly, trying to decide how to word it. "There's someone else besides myself who needs me to stay alive, and he doesn't even know where I am right now, or what I've been doing. I promise if you give me this chance, I will not mess it up this time. And if I do, I will not put up a fight the next time Death knocks at my door." she pleads.
      Death contemplates the words that have been said. "I'll give you this now. Next time you will not be so lucky, and I will enjoy taking you away to the depths of Hell."
    
      And just like that, Death is gone.

      She takes a long, how shower and cleans her apartment, dumping out all the alcohol she can find. Then she calls a taxi, grabs her key and coat and runs, literally runs, down thirteen flights of stairs to the street. The taxi is waiting.
      The drive feels long, although it is only ten minutes. They arrive in front of a house. She thanks him, throws him some crumpled bills and runs to the door, banging on it frantically. An older woman answers, and frowns at her. "What are you doing here?" A child peeks around the woman's legs.
       "Mommy?!"

xx

        


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