I didn't have an answer. All I knew was that I was tired—tired of living in fear, tired of being alone, and tired of being cursed. I downed the rest of my beer and headed to bed, silently wishing that tomorrow would somehow be different.
Morning came too quickly, ushered in by the sharp, shrill ring of my phone. I groggily fumbled for it, still half-asleep, fully expecting another telemarketer or someone with another pointless sales pitch.
"Hello?" I croaked.
"Hey, it's Sarah," came the familiar voice from the other end. Sarah worked at the hospital where I'd been treated after the truck incident. We'd struck up an odd sort of friendship while I was recovering, exchanging numbers before I left.
"Oh, hey," I replied, still trying to shake the sleep from my voice. "What's up?"
"I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch today? I've got some free time, and I thought it'd be nice to catch up."
Lunch? I hadn't gone out with anyone in ages, and the thought of it made my heart skip a beat. "Uh, sure! Sounds great," I said, doing my best to hide the awkward excitement bubbling up.
We arranged to meet at a small restaurant near the hospital. When I arrived, I scanned the crowd for Sarah, trying to remember the finer details of her appearance. It had only been a few days, but I was still half-afraid I might not recognize her. Then I saw her—sitting in a booth near the back, waving at me with a bright smile.
I approached her, feeling my nerves kick in. "Hey," I greeted her as we hugged. The awkwardness was palpable, but it dissipated quickly once we sat down.
"You look good," she said with a warm grin. "How've you been?"
I shrugged. "I'm alive, which is more than I can say for some people," I joked, hoping to lighten the mood. But it didn't seem to do much to ease the tension that still hung in the air between us.
As we ordered our food, Sarah launched into stories about her life. She'd been married, divorced, worked at the hospital by day, and volunteered at a homeless shelter by night. Her life sounded full—meaningful even. Compared to hers, mine felt…small. It made me question what the hell I was doing with my days.
I was about to share a bit about my dead-end job at the library when a sudden, ear-piercing crash reverberated through the restaurant. I turned in time to see a car plowing through the front window. The glass shattered in all directions, and the sound of metal screeching against metal filled the air. People screamed and scrambled, knocking over tables and chairs as they fled.
For a moment, I froze. Chaos erupted all around us. Sarah and I shot to our feet, instinctively backing away from the incoming destruction. But it wasn't enough. The car collided with a support beam, and the ceiling began to buckle.
"Oh, God!" Sarah cried out, grabbing my arm as debris rained down.
I shielded her as best I could, dragging her toward what I hoped was a safer corner, but it was too late. The ceiling gave way, trapping us beneath rubble and twisted metal.
Panic surged in my veins. I could hear Sarah hyperventilating beside me, her breathing shallow and erratic. "It's going to be okay," I lied, even though I wasn't sure either of us would make it out alive.
Time stretched painfully as we waited. We were pinned down, unable to move. Every second felt like an eternity until the rescue team finally arrived. I could hear them shouting above the wreckage, digging people out one by one.
Sarah was lifted out first, pale and trembling but alive. I watched them carry her away on a stretcher, and that's when I felt it—a sharp, blinding pain in my chest. My vision blurred, and I struggled to breathe.
"Dead on arrival," I heard a paramedic mutter, as the darkness closed in around me.
The next thing I knew, I woke up in a hospital bed. A sterile white room greeted me, the beeping of machines dulling the sharp edges of my consciousness. My chest burned, but I was alive.
Beside me, Sarah sat in a chair, her eyes filled with relief—and something else. Was it guilt?
"You scared me," she said softly, her voice cracking. "I thought you were dead."
I managed a weak smile. "So did I."
Sarah stayed for a while, sitting with me in silence. But something had shifted between us. Her body language was distant, her gaze flitting nervously around the room as if searching for an escape. The accident had rattled her. I could tell by the way her hands fidgeted, by the way she avoided eye contact when she spoke.
Before she left, she gave me a quick hug and promised to call me later. But as the days passed, her silence spoke louder than her words ever could. I tried calling her a few times, but she never answered.
I knew what had happened. The accident had scared her off—just like everyone else before her. No one wanted to be around someone cursed by misfortune. It was another bitter reminder that I couldn't escape the weight of the curse I carried.
A week passed, and I was discharged from the hospital, feeling more drained than ever. When I got back to my apartment, it was like stepping into a vacuum of solitude. The cluttered mess of my living space mirrored the chaotic mess of my life, a constant reminder that this was the only place I had left—a prison more than a home.
I tidied up, my thoughts drifting back to the hospital, to Sarah's fading smile, to the curse that had once again taken away someone I could have cared about. I grabbed a beer from the fridge and sank into the worn couch, flicking through channels on the TV without much thought.
For a moment, I found solace in the mindless action flick playing on the screen. It was loud, fast-paced, and just distracting enough to keep the darkness at bay. But that peace was short-lived.
A knock on the door jolted me back to reality. It was louder this time—more insistent.
My heart raced, my body tensing. Another knock, this time more forceful. Whoever it was, they weren't going to leave easily.
Grabbing my gun I approached the door cautiously, peeking through the peephole. There, standing in the dim light of the hallway, was a man—a tall, imposing figure dressed in a sleek black suit. His sunglasses hid his eyes, and his stance oozed authority. Something about him made my stomach drop.
I didn't even bother to ask myself if this day could get any worse.