Cosmic Confluence

Chapter 1: schrödinger's cat is alive

Something that I knew, was that I fit more into the comic relief side-character criteria rather than your typical protagonist. I knew this because I read a lot, and I was an aspiring writer. I wasn't like other girls, and that was because every single girl is different in their own way. But seriously, who is that overused statement 'I'm not like other girls' aimed at? Girls who have a lot of friends and like themselves? Piss off. Nobody on the entire Earth was truly alike, that was another thing I knew.

But maybe I wasn't the comic relief side-character. Maybe I was the manic pixie dream girl with a deep rooted desire for her life to be wild? Or maybe I was the eccentric know-it-all who believed in demons from space. The paranoid teen who always felt like they were never alone? The religious pacifist? The closeted sadist? The guilt-ridden disaster?

One might begin to think that something I didn't know, was myself. I believe it's impossible to categorize a person down to one thing. People will always be larger than that, I will always be larger than that. It was just the truth

Another thing that I knew, was that the Schrodinger's cat theory comes from the thought experiment where a flask of poison, a cat, and a radioactive source are placed in a sealed box. If an internal monitor detects radioactivity (i.e. a single atom decaying), the flask is shattered, releasing the poison, which kills the cat. The chances of that happening or not is a perfect 50/50.  The Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics implies that after a while, the cat is simultaneously alive and dead. It's in a state of what's called 'superposition' as a result of being linked to a random event that may or may not occur. Yet, when one looks in the box, one sees the cat either alive or dead not both alive and dead.

This is what was going through my head as I stared at the door across the foot of my bed.

He could be right behind it, you know, I told myself. There was no telling for sure if he was on the other side of the door or not unless I went and opened it. However I knew that doing so was a prime example of how horror movie characters die. A lot of times, I worried for myself knowing that in those classic thriller scenes where the character's curiosity gets the best of them as they creep further towards the beckoning voice at the end of the hall, I wouldn't run away either.

There's been one too many times where I've stepped headfirst into danger almost knowingly. Why? Because one push can go a thousand miles. One spontaneous decision could alter my life wildly, and for the better at that. However, it basically always ends with regret and I'm not sure why I can't vow to never get myself into that kind of stuff ever again.

I had an impulsive nature to me.

I woke up fine the next morning which made me start to think that he probably wasn't behind my door last night and I was just being a paranoid bitch.

Still, I knew he was out there hunting for me, I had every right to be a paranoid bitch. And I know what you're probably thinking: I was some wanted criminal who had a bounty hunter after my head. As awesome as that was, that wasn't it. All you needed to know for now was that something was after me.

Following me.

Catching up to me.

And I don't think I could ever escape.

You will learn what happened in time.

I wasn't going to let it get to me though, I wasn't weak. Well, actually in terms of constitution I was pretty weak. I lied. When I came out of my mother I had a defective heart and situs inversus. After about a hundred surgeries I was left with a shortened aorta, a missing carotid artery, and a bunch of guts on the opposite side. This gave me what felt to be the worst stamina in the whole fucking world. I came in last place in my school's 'Terry Fox run' every single year, I wouldn't say so if it wasn't true. It was all pretty wack.