When Everything Started To Fall Apart
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…you would know the truth.
That’s what they told me when I tried to explain how it felt watching my family die. What you feel in your bones, all that rage and grief, it’s not real. It doesn’t matter. You’re wrong to be angry. They told me that if only I’d kept quiet instead of trying to talk about it, none of this would have happened.
So don’t blame yourself for something you had no control over. That’s what they said to me after my mom died. They were right about her dying, but not everything else.
I didn’t come here because I wanted to hear them say those things again. But maybe that’s why I’m still alive. Maybe I came here to make sure they knew the whole story before I go. Because if there was ever a time for lies, it was then. The world was ending. People needed to be lied to so we could survive.
And they did lie. But some people weren’t fooled by their lies. Some people saw through them and got mad because of it.
If there was ever a time for truth, it’s now. There are no more lies to tell. All we can do is see it all for what it really was. And that means you have to keep living while everyone else dies. That’s the kind of thing you say when the whole world ends. When everything falls apart, when every promise breaks, when everything goes dark—the only thing left is you. That’s the one truth that makes sense.
“Please,” I whisper into the darkness. “Let me go.”
The hole in the earth yawns and opens around me. My body feels strange like nothing is where it should be anymore. But I guess that’s just the way it is when you’re dead.
One last time I try calling out for help. This time, at least, I’m not afraid to say what I want.
This time, someone finally answers.
A voice says my name.
But it isn’t him.
It’s you.
“What?”
Your eyes are on me. Your mouth moves. You’re saying something, but I can’t understand what. Then you start walking toward me, slow and steady as if you’ve done this a hundred times before. At first, I think you’re coming to pull me away from the pit, back up onto dry land with the rest of us. But then you stop short, and I realize that’s not true.
You’re going down there.
For a moment, I almost don’t believe it. But there’s no mistaking the look in your eyes. You’re looking at me like you need me. Like you’re running out of ways to live.
And I can’t let you.
No matter what happens.
“Stop!” I shout. “Don’t go any farther! We’ll find another way!”
But you keep moving.
“Please—”
You reach out to touch me, but I twist out of your grasp. My fingers close over yours, and I don’t know why. Maybe I’m hoping you’ll give up if I hold tight enough. Or maybe I’m trying to force you to listen to me. To remember who you are and what you mean to me.
Whatever the reason, I squeeze hard. Hard enough to hurt.
And you scream.
I’m sorry.
When I wake up again, the sky has gone dark. It took longer than I thought. But even though it’s over, I can’t bring myself to get up.
Instead, I curl back against the dirt and rock and wait for the numbness to fade. I try to find a reason to be happy. I tell myself that I’m glad you’re dead. I tell myself that this will never happen again.
Then I remember my mother.
Her eyes. Her smile.
I miss her so much.
I wish she were here.
I think about the way I failed her. About the way, I couldn’t protect her.
Maybe I always knew she wouldn’t make it.
But still.
She deserved better.
Before I can change my mind, I stand up and walk away from the hole. From the darkness. From the world.
My feet carry me toward the place where I buried my mother.
There’s another grave waiting for me.
It’s been six days since everything changed. Six days since I started walking away from the world. Six days since I decided to leave behind my friends and family.
Six days since I stood in the rain and watched her die.
I wish I could say that it gets easier. That pain fades away, leaving me empty and alone. But that’s not how it works. The numbness lasts long after I lose the last of my memories. Even when I feel something, I can’t figure out why or what it means. Everything is disjointed, broken, and wrong.
So I keep walking.
The ground beneath my feet is soft and spongy. Every step is heavy. I can barely breathe. I can’t think straight. I’m never sure what direction I’m heading in. For a while, I thought I’d found the ocean. But now I wonder if it was just an illusion. Perhaps the water has swallowed everything, including the ground.
I can’t stay here forever.
Eventually, I’ll need to find somewhere else to sleep. Somewhere safe. Somewhere out of the rain.
That’s when I see a glimmering light ahead of me. It’s far away, but it’s bright enough to draw my attention. I squint into the distance, searching for the source.
And then I recognize it.
It’s the same kind of light I saw from the window of my dorm room. Only this one is coming from the sky.
I hurry forward, toward the light.
There’s a small village nearby. It looks like a cluster of houses built right into the side of the cliff. A few people are milling about on the streets, staring at me, but none of them speak. They seem afraid of me, and I suppose they have every reason to be.
I’ve seen their faces in my dreams, and now I know who they are. I know what’s happened to them.
I know.
When I reach the edge of town, I pause to catch my breath. There’s a small building in the center of the settlement. I can see the glow of candles inside, and I wonder if anyone is home. If they might let me in.
If they won’t, I’ll find somewhere else to stay. I don’t care anymore. All I want is to be warm and dry. I just need a little help to survive.
A young woman comes out of the house. She’s dressed in a shapeless gray dress, with a white scarf wrapped around her head. I don’t recognize her, but then, I haven’t heard her name.
“Hello,” I say. “Do you live here?”
I expect her to run away, but instead, she smiles.
“Yes, I do.”
I hope she doesn’t see the tears streaming down my face. I can hardly speak. What am I doing? Why did I come here?
I shouldn’t have done this.
“Can you help me?” I ask.
She nods slowly. “Of course. Come inside.”
I follow her into the house, and soon we’re sitting together by the fire. I’m so cold that I can barely move, but the heat of the flames burns through the numbness, bringing me back to life.
“What happened to you?” she asks.
I shake my head. I don’t know what to tell her. That I got lost? That I killed someone? That I tried to kill myself?
It would be nice if she already knew.
If she had answers for me.
But even though I’m numb, there’s still enough left inside my head to know that this isn’t real. None of this is real. My memories aren’t mine. They belong to someone else. Someone who’s gone.
Someone who deserves to rest in peace.
“I don’t really remember,” I say.
The End