countdown [h.s.]

one

rosie

95 years.

That's the lifespan expectancy I had been born with. According to society, it was a pleasantly sufficient lifeline. It was more than average and suppressed my parents' worries about how long I'd have to live.

I was taught to be a quiet and hardworking child, lifting any fear my parents had when it came to rule breaking. They taught me who was in charge and stirred a fright of the world within me. From such a young age I was taught to always be afraid.

I'd seen first hand what happens to your countdown by going against the rules. It's what terrified me most. I had just turned 16, my brother almost 17. He was a rebellious kid who never really had a tolerance for listening to my parents or following the rules. It eventually caught up to him when one day he was caught trespassing "secretive" grounds with others. After they'd been busted, he took the hardest hit with his shitty criminal record. The police never disclosed where he was caught trespassing nor what he was doing. All we knew was that he'd face severe consequences.

My brother wasn't a bad person. He didn't deserve what happened to him. 

The next morning after the incident, a scream traveled throughout the house. My mother rushed to the phone after stepping out of my brother's bedroom. She couldn't stop pacing around the kitchen. 

"Honey...you need to come home right now," she cried into the phone, running her hand through her long brown hair, "His countdown. The countdown is short."

Then there was a pause.

"He woke up this morning with 24 hours. The incident last night brought it to an all time low," she trembled. I remember her hands shaking uncontrollably. 

24 hours passed by. They were long, torturous hours of sadness and pain. But I'll never forget saying goodbye to him. He was sitting on his bed, looking perfectly healthy, a smile laced with sadness while he looked at me. 

When the final hour came, the countdown took over my brother's body and released a strong and powerful drug into his bloodstream. He never woke up again.

The government was powerful, strong, and frankly, terrifying. Well, at least it terrified most of us.

"Rosemary, you're coming tonight, correct me if I'm wrong?" My mom pleads, as she sits across from me on the couch. God I hate when my parents call me by my full name. Rosemary- ugh. Why can't they ever just call me Rosie like the rest of the world?

"Rosemary?" My mom once again asks.

Her words finally manage to snap my racing mind back to life, "I'm sorry, what?" 

There I was again, completely lost in thought. 

"Your father's job is sponsoring a charity event and is asking the whole family to be present," she explains.

I let out a tenuous sigh, "Do I have to come? I'm tired and I really have a lot of wo-"

Before I could finish, she cuts me off, "Yes. It's important for your father to look good in front of his boss."

"Fine. What time is this?" I ask, aggravated about this event already. 

"6. Make sure you're ready."

"Okay," I huff before pushing myself off the couch to make my way upstairs.

Before I ascend the stairs, my mom calls out, "Rosemary wait! I forgot to tell you...David's mother called earlier today."