The Journey of Death (Short Story)

Chapter 2

The thud-thud of a heartbeat rang in my ears. Was I really alive? Memories came back to me in flashes. Memories of searing pain rushed through my body for a brief moment. My body seized in overwhelming pain before all feeling disappeared. Thoughts floated dully in my mind as I lay cemented in the footpath outside my apartment. How was I still alive? I saw my own bloodied arm laying beside me, twisted, and broken. My vision was turning red. I shook my head to expel those memories. They were fading quickly, like a dream. I rubbed my eyes. The world was spinning, and I reached out to stabilise myself. That's when I noticed it. A pale hand stretched out in front of me. A hand that wasn't mine.

I jolted onto my feet. My surroundings were unfamiliar. I was in a small room decorated with pictures of strangers and cats. I rushed over to a full-length mirror that stood in one corner. My bare feet crossed over timber flooring, then landed on a fluffy white mat that lay in front of the mirror. I silently placed my pale hands over my mouth. But was it my mouth? The teenage girl in my reflection stared at me in horror. Her long, straight black hair was the polar opposite of my usual red curls. My grey eyes were now dark brown. They were wide and rounded. I reached out to touch my reflection, startling when it reached back at me. After a few moments of silent staring, a frown creased the teens face. "Why?!" I yelled in a barely audible whisper, flailing my hands at my reflection. "What is wrong with you?! You thought you could see Oliver again! You dense-" I pulled my oddly straight, twisting hand fulls of it until my head hurt. "Reincarnation? Really?" My eyebrows slowly dropped from a frown, and I gritted my teeth. "Just your luck..." My hands loosened my hair and fell at my sides. "What have I done... I just- I just want my Oliver..." A sharp voice pulled me from my thoughts, "Kaitlyn! I'm leaving!" The voice was unfamiliar. It sounded like an older woman's voice. I questioned for a moment if I was sexist to expect my kidnapper to be a male, but just then I realised what was happening. "C-coming!" I called out, trying not to sound nervous. I was Kaitlyn. I wasn't Robin Darcy anymore.

Based on my young appearance, shorter stature, and the fact that there were so many things packed into this little bedroom, I decided Kaitlyn must have been a teenager. "Sorry Kaitlyn, I promise I won't stare," I said quietly as I changed out of Kaitlyn's skimpy PJs and into her day clothes. I realised my head looked oddly thin without curls, so I threw my hair into a high ponytail. Where was I planning to go you might ask? I wasn't sure yet either. I hoped to run outside, right back to my apartment, where I'd jump again, and this time I'd hopefully die in peace. I didn't want reincarnation; I wanted to enjoy a paradise with my son. After exiting Kaitlyn's house, I was relieved to see I wasn't too far from my apartment. I didn't have to walk far. However, throughout the walk I noticed strange things. This was definitely my area, but things looked different. A building I hadn't previously noticed had spawned, the dogs that always had a barking match near my house were silent. The strangest thing, however, was that not a drop of blood remained where my body should have landed. My memories of landing on the footpath were distant and blurry, as if they weren't mine, but I was sure I landed. I shook my head and made my way to the lifts. Maybe they were quick to clean up my body. The lift made a 'ding' sound as the doors opened. I made my way across the apartment roof, reaching the edge of the balcony. The roof was oddly cleaner than usual.

I leaned against the railing and looked down the dramatic fall. Memories of my arm twisting and my head splitting open jolted to my mind. But in a way, they didn't feel real. They felt far away. I stood at the edge of the railing for over an hour, watching the cars drive by and the birds crow softly. I replayed the scene of my son's body laying lifelessly in the hospital on repeat in my mind. I remembered how he used to smile, his freckled cheeks rosy and full. I remembered how he used to pet my back when I was crying, saying, "Mummy, it's okay." He used to offer me lollies when I let my sadness show.

I remembered when I first looked into his eyes at the age of fifteen. My tears ran freely as I wondered what I would do with him. I was alone. I was hurting. I wondered what he would look like when he grew older, if he would ever miss me. Would he wonder why his mother left him in this world alone? Would he think I was selfish to make him an orphan? Or would he understand what I went through. That I hadn't wanted him. I didn't want to bring him into this cruel world. But when his little hand reached out and touched my face. When he cried loudly in my arms. When the nurses said you have a son. I realised I finally had family. Would I really choose to doom him to the fait I'd been forced to live. A life void of love. I remembered that I had dedicated my life to him that day, and I kept that promise for the next five years. Until he died. If I had been a better mother, maybe I could have saved him.

I forced these thoughts into the front of my mind, pushing myself to take that step again; off the roof and plummeting down to my death. A loud crash echoed around me as I made contact with the footpath. I blinked. I breathed. I lifted my head and sat up. I felt nothing. Was I...immortal? I looked at my unscathed hands. I pinched my hand hard and yelped in pain. My hand was red where I had pinched it. I could definitely hurt myself. Before I could investigate further, I noticed bystanders beginning to stare at the sight of a girl sitting on the footpath. I stood up, still dusty from sitting on the ground, and began walking along the footpath. Maybe people will think I just tripped.

The rest of the day consisted of me walking around the city aimlessly and binge eating as much as I could with the change Kaitlyn had in her pocket. I spent hours staring thoughtlessly at the wall of my favourite café. Only when the sun was getting close to setting did I snap out of my thoughtless staring, when the sound of giggling children caught my attention. The children were crossing the road in small groups and entering the café, the quiet atmosphere evaporating. I sighed and stood up from my seat, exiting the café. I paused at the edge of the road, beside the parked cars, watching the children cross the road. The front of the children's uniforms read "year 5 boys" Ollie never got to reach that age. He never even got to go to school. All the children were gathered in groups, except one child who climbed down the bus stairs alone. He looked at his feet as he walked, his black, short, and curly hair partially obstructing his face. But the parts of his face that were visible were familiar. I frowned as I tried to figure out who he looked like. I considered it was strange to be staring at this child as he crossed the road, but in that moment, I didn't care. I was drawn to him with immense curiosity and familiarity. I began crossing the road. Perhaps I could get a better look of his face when we walked past each other. I was completely focused, trying to get a better glimpse of his face, until I saw it. A car sped in our direction and to my surprise, I reached out and grabbed the boys' arms, pulling him out of the way as it screeched past. "Watch it!" I managed to yell, other bystanders yelling insults at the driver as they walked past. "Are you okay" I asked, turning to look at the boy, now standing with me behind the bus. "Th-thanks" the boy said quietly as he looked up at me. Our eyes met and realisation hit me. He looked like Oliver. He looked just like my son.