Thanatophobia (fear of dying)

Tuesday

Tuesday

A note. A clean, crisp note. And, then, a voicemail.

When I woke in the morning, I slammed my hand onto the clock radio, only to feel smooth paper on my fingertips rather than the usual cheap plastic snooze button. I pulled myself up with a grunt, blowing my bangs out of my face. Lying on the button was a smooth piece of paper, folded neatly into a square. I felt the sound of my beating heart flood my ear drums with its erratic beats.

That hadn’t been there the night before…

Thump, thump, thump. I felt like the murderer in Edgar Allen Poe’s Telltale Heart. Yet, I’d never be the killer - no never.

I hated death; I feared death.

 Still, sweat began collecting on my palms as I engulfed the note in the palm of my hand, being wary not to wrinkle it. I looked around the room, turning the light on, and then quickly grabbed a shoe if I needed a weapon on hand. I was met with silence. I cautiously got out of bed and checked the house. Nothing. Perhaps I was overreacting. I resorted to brewing a batch of coffee. I was shaking so much already, that coffee wouldn’t be able to do much more damage to my already strained nervous system. And, perhaps the warmth would even soothe my nerves in the chilly apartment complex. I sat down, my muscles feeling a bit wobbly from the exertion of the panic attack. With unsteady fingers, I pulled at the edges of the note, undoing the fold. Inside there were only four letters.

A, B, C, D…

All the letters had a slash drawn through them, a bright red slash that marred the simplistic black lettering on the white of the page. What could it mean? I thought. Then my eyes drifted to the doorway. I thought of the bright red glass and graffiti. The alphabet danced in my head. Maybe a child hadn’t written that after all?

Someone was just trying to mess with me- to get in my head. That was all. I got dressed for the day, ignoring the spikes of doubt that plagued my mind.

Letters danced behind the backs of my eyelids. And, so I passed through the day’s classes in an irrational daze. As I was boarding my bike to leave school, I heard a sob come from the bench to my right. Slowly, I lifted my leg back off the bike; I couldn’t deny someone in need- even if they didn’t desire my help. 

I was attracted to suffering. I’d been drawn to it my entire life, as if it was the magnetic pull exerted by the Earth’s poles and I was a mere refrigerator magnet, helpless in its wake.

I noticed that the girl crying already had a comforting hand on her shoulder, the hand of my friend, Daniel.

Still, I approached, unable to resist the temptation. “Are you alright?” It was a pointless question.

Her shoulders heaved, and I threw Daniel a questioning glance. He shrugged, and I came up to her, crouching on my knees. I softly put my hand to her chin and coaxed her to meet my gaze. Her eyes were puffy, and tears still streamed down her face. “Here take this.” I offered her a tissue from my bag.

“Thank you.” She sniffled.

“What happened?” I questioned.

“My fourteen year old brother,…my little Ben. He’s…well, he’s…gone.” She cried out. “Just like that. He was perfectly healthy, but… he had a h-hh-heart attack. The doctors say that the symptoms were evasive which is why it all seemed okay for so long…”

I widened my eyes, feeling a hole opening up in the expanses of my heart. Darkness filled the spot, as I felt the loss of another being from this Earth. Where would he go when he passed out of the mortal world? Is there a heaven waiting up there for him?

“When did this…happen?” I asked, massaging her hand in sympathy.

“A couple of hours ago.” She blew her nose a second time, and I comforted her until she could collect herself again. I boarded my bike once again, stone-faced. People die all the time. Everywhere. Approximately 150,000 people die each and every day. Her brother was one of many. One of the many that could have easily been me…

I shivered at the thought, and paid attention to the road.

I slid my bag on the kitchen table and stowed my bike in the main room, setting the water to boil for a nice, calming batch of green tea.

I set the water heater on high and took a shower, letting the near-boiling water purify my body of the death I’d been dwelling on for the past hour or so.

Fourteen short years in this world.

It wasn’t fair. I clenched my teeth, wrapping my towel around myself tightly. Oftentimes, the wrong people suffer. The scales of the world are unbalanced when opposing forces of good and evil, light and dark are concerned.

I try to shake these dark thoughts out of my mind to no avail. I’d known for years that I had an abnormal and at times unhealthy aversion to death- ever since I’d encountered it firsthand. It was the one thing that I couldn’t grasp, couldn’t understand…and that scared me.

 It was the one thing out of my precious sense of control.

When I’d finished, I found the voicemail.

There was breathing, and then a single word. It was said softly, but was unmistakably clear: Evans.

My last name: Evans.

I decided to go that night without the news. The illusion of a happy word had been shattered enough for the day. I’d like to at least allow myself some semblance of a good night’s sleep.

It was undeniably fitful.