Keep Me Alive

2

          "Are you okay, sweetheart?" I'm constantly on the run and there are people trying to kill me how am I supposed to be okay—was what I wanted to say but this elderly whose face bore wrinkles from age was looking at me with concern and curiosity. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"

         Yes, I do. "No, ma'am. I'm fine. My father's a doctor so he'll take care of it at home."

          "Oh how wonderful! Then your father will be able to heal all kinds of sickness, won't he dear?" She finished wrapping the lilies with a lilac blue paper and held it out to me, "There you go. I'm sure your mother will love it!"

         "I don't have a father and my mother's dead." I walked out; leaving a shocked old woman who loved to rattle her mouth with things she didn't know. I was harsh and my attitude's bad right now but my head ringing with a splitting headache wasn't helping at all.

         It was 5:12 p.m. by the time I got back to him and he just looked at his wristwatch and then back to me. "I said only 15 minutes."

          "She's someone's grandma and she moved like a snail." I continued walking and got into the car, him following suit.

          "Put your seat belt on." So I did.

         "What's the name of the cemetery?"

         "The one that's near."

          That doesn't answer my question. "Okay." I fiddled with the peace lilies on my lap. I didn't know how many I needed to buy so I just bought a dozen. "So, how many? When?"

         "Eleven. Three weeks ago."

         I inhaled a sharp breath but it was not enough to stop the tears from spilling out of my eyes. He was only out for two hours three weeks ago, if I remembered correctly. "Women?" I braced myself for the answer.

          "Just two. Wipe your eyes and cheeks. It's not time yet." I inhaled again and nodded, wiping the tears off my face and composed myself.

         We arrived at the cemetery 10 minutes later and I grabbed my denim jacket from the backseat, cringing at the pain on my lower back and abdomen but ignored it. I took out some painkillers inside the pocket of my jacket, and consumed one. Straightening my shorts on my thighs, I braced myself and got out of the car.

         Our current car was a black Mazda 3 which he stole from a couple enjoying their night at the cinema. The inside smelled at first like cheap perfume and sex, there was a used condom at the backseat, a lipstick smudge on the passenger's door and an ashtray beside the steering wheel. It was disgusting but he managed to clean it in 20 minutes, which was enough time for me to grab some painkillers, buy some peace lilies and throw a tantrum at someone's grandma.

          "Cramps?"

          "Yes. I took painkillers though."

          "Good. I can't have you limping all the time." He held out his hand, palm facing upwards and looked at me. "Let's go."

          I grabbed his hand and I let him walk ahead of me. "Are they all buried here?"

          "No, just seven. We'll go to a different cemetery after this which is a little farther." He pulled me to walk alongside him and then we stopped walking.

         I didn't bother looking at the name written at the tomb, because I know it will be lost in my head once more deaths come. At first, I memorized thirty of them, all dead because of me. But after a while, they just fade, I just forget.