Curtain Call

 "Here Haidee! Eat some more!"

The Simple family were scattered around a circular table, marvelling at a feast, as the man of the house served generous amounts of fattening goods. They all knew it was the very last day Haidee could live on Earth, however, sadness couldn't easily seep into their minds as they were temporarily blinded by the happiness of the treacly food.

"Please Hal, I've had enough," Haidee admitted, for she had gormandized a whole cake. "Hestia, are you still hungry?"

Hestia kept silent. Her eyes were fixated on the hundreds of wrapped gifts that laid peacefully on the floor, surrounding the furniture, blocking the doors, carelessly stacked upon other gifts, pleading for anyone to reveal their secrets. The mountains of presents nosily towered over the family, scolding them for not listening to their shouting, "OPEN ME!", but the walls held them back by their glistening ribbons. Wrist watches and clocks of all colours and cheap prices hung from the ceiling and, of course, the family's wrists.

9 o'clock p.m! Hestia read, from the watch that swung above her. It was only Hestia who didn't wear the watch that her parents had due to her perspective on how "ridiculous" it was. Because of this, her parents continuously bombarded her with the same questions, and she always gave her reasons.

No! I don't want a Trozen watch, because it hurts my wrist!

No! I don't want a Trozen watch, because we already have so many!

No! I don't want a watch that can tell the exact time and date that I will die!

"No. I'm fine mom," Hestia finally replied. "Hey, why don't we open the gifts now?"

Feeling rushed, the parents disagreed, but Haidee felt impatient.

"Fine. Let's open the presents," she huffed.

Two hours later, the living room was a sea of gadgets and crumpled wrapping paper as the Simple family sat at the bottom of the sea. The room was divided in half by the presents and the wrapping paper. Haidee was in the process of opening her last gift.

"Oh Hal! You do spoil me very much!"

"Don't say that Haidee! I know how much this day means to you. To us." He motioned his arms around Haidee and Hestia's shoulders, but Hestia slithered away, just in time. Hal ignored his daughter's rude gesture and focused on caressing his wife.

Hestia fiddled with a ripped green polka dotted square; she didn't want her parents to see the guilt in her eyes. "I'm sorry but can we get something straight here? Why are we celebrating? It's just mom's last day to live! Why is that such a bad thing?"

The parents luridly faced their daughter as if she had stabbed them and twisted the blade while it was still inside.

"Hestia how dare you!" Hal barked. "You have no idea what your mother is going through and you come up with this stupid question?"

"What's so wrong with death," Hestia let out the many questions in her mind just as easily as she would release a yawn. "Why should we mourn for someone's funeral? Why is death such a bad thing?"

"Because it's your Mother's last day," Hal stated, hoping to provoke a reaction. Hal took his arm off of Haidee as she continued to open her gift. "Don't you see that?"

Hestia crossed her arms attempting to look strong and tough. "So?"

"Hestia," Her father hissed. "Just because you can't feel pain, it doesn't mean everyone else can't! We have feelings too! But then again, it's something you don't understand!"

"Guys stop fighting!" Haidee cried. She couldn't handle her family arguing over a stupid question, nor the simple metallic watch that sat in the box.

It was 11:15 p.m, but the new watch said "9:45:38 before 15th of February 2038" To Haidee, this meant she only had nine hours, 45 minutes and 38 seconds left to live. To Hal, this meant that he would only have one night left to be with his wife. And for Hestia, this meant that she wouldn't have a mother telling her to get off her phone or clean her bed or take a shower everyday.

"Another Trozen watch? Hal," Haidee mudded up her trembling hands with tears and enveloped her eyes with her greying hair. "Why would you give this to me?"

"Honey! I didn't buy that!" Hal put his hands up like a robber caught red handed. "I don't know who got that for you. Maybe it was one of your friends, or my friends. Please honey I swear I didn—"

"I did it," Hestia hastily inserted. The volume of her voice was so light, her confession was like a daily greeting. "I bought you a present that I thought you wanted and I used my lunch money. What's so wrong with that!"

Haidee jumped up. She snatched her Trozen watch off of her wrist and threw it into the box with the new one. Hal followed his wife down the corridor, until he was pulled back. He turned around to find his daughter preventing him from moving any further.

"Dad, I didn't know Mom would react this way." She explained. Although, the sorrow-less face she wore did not convince her father.

Hal cast his finger right between his daughter's eyes.

"Your insensitivity to pain is no excuse!"

Hestia was dead to Hal at this point. She was sent to her room without dinner as her father was busy calming down Haidee.

The night ended leaving Hestia oblivious to the pure madness, the ardour her father possessed to shut her up.

As Hestia contemplated in her bed, she realised how her gift could have insulted her parents. She had good intentions—at least, that's what she thought. She told herself, as if she was speaking to her mother, "I just wanted you to know how much money I saved and how responsible and considerate I am."

But her mother would never hear that.

Then all at once, like a mosquito buzzing closer towards Hestia's ear creating a crescendo of sound, Hestia was stung with guilt.

She never knew her congenital insensitivity to pain could ever back down, especially on the worst day possible.

Her emotions alternated back and forth, changing until she could no longer stop, like a flickering light consuming, wasting, the last of its bulb's energy. She wanted to apologise to her mother for everything she had done, but it was too late. The spirits were taking Haidee elsewhere minute by minute.

The current pain in Hestia's heart had grown to start piercing her throat, limiting her air supply.

Somebody help me! Hestia believed she screamed.

Suddenly, Hestia turned her head to her curtains. She was staring at the open window, calling for her.

The skin that clutched her hands was now impenetrable as she positioned herself on the windowsill, legs out and swinging like a pendulum.

"Maybe it's not too late," Hestia sighed, visualising her mother hovering before her.