Kit
. . .
Ten Years Ago
My eyes blinked rapidly in an attempt to send moisture to them, but it was a failed effort.
I’d been staring at this computer for hours, trying so hard to get everything done.
Out the window beside my desk, the sun was traveling across the sky.
I was running out of time. I glanced around the office, my eyes flitting to my coworkers, who were sat in half-cubicles, casually finishing up their days.
At that, I shut down the computer and pushed out from my desk. I snatched my backpack from where it hung on the back of my chair and put it on, turning away from the desk before pivoting back and seizing a Post-it note.
“Fuck,” I muttered to myself at a sharp slice of pain.
The note nicked my pointer finger, giving me a paper cut.
I pressed the finger to my mouth to soothe the sting, tasting salt.
On the note, I wrote the word PASSWORDS in all caps then jotted down three passwords—all similar but slightly varied—then I tore the sticky note off the pad and slapped it to the front of my monitor.
I swiveled again, saying goodbyes to my coworkers.
My head whipped around the office as I marched through it.
Where the hell was he? The reason I wasted my day at work, of all places, was so I could spend time with him.
My heart pounded in my ears. There was no way that he left before me. My head turned toward the kitchen and—
“Izan,” I said as I strode toward him, relief flooding my chest.
My best friend had brown skin and dark curly hair pulled into a bun atop his head that I would tease him relentlessly for. However, in reality, he pulled it off.
Izan looked up from the water bottle he was filling. “Hey, man. Taking off already?”
I shrugged, failing my attempt at casual. “I have a thing after work, but I wanted to find you before I left.”
Izan regarded me curiously. “Anything wrong? You’re sweaty.”
I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand, it coming away moist. Gross. I was sweaty.
“Oh, no. Fine. I’m fine.” I firmly grabbed Izan by the shoulders, causing him to rear back with a raised brow. I had to say this now. “You know you’re my best friend, right? I love you.”
Izan placed the back of his hand to my forehead, which I swerved away from. “Are you sure you’re all right? You don’t feel like you have a fever—oof!”
I pulled Izan into a tight hug.
He patted my shoulder cautiously as he accepted the hug. It wasn’t like this was the first time I hugged him. “You’re freaking me out, man.”
“Sorry.” I pulled away, eyes downcast. “Sorry. Long day.”
“Sure,” Izan said. He gently slapped me twice on the face. “I love you, too, you freak. See you tomorrow? Call me later if you need to.”
“I will.”
I won’t.
When Izan took off, I took my leave from the office, finding my bike where I left it chained up in the parking lot. I climbed on and pumped the pedals hard before skidding to a stop in front of my apartment building.
I locked the bike to the rack in front and entered my first-floor apartment.
I dropped my backpack to the floor of my kitchen and almost immediately followed suit myself.
Heart pounding in my ears, I curled up on the ground in child’s pose, taking in deep breaths and letting out very shaky ones.
When my mind cleared, I forced myself up to my knees and shook my head.
“I can do this,” I said aloud. On unstable legs, I stood and took cautious steps toward my living room, where I fell backward onto the couch.
I pulled out my phone, my reflection staring back at me in the black screen.
The deep dark circles under my eyes were solid proof that I had not slept in a month.
I opened the phone and called my mom.
She answered right away. “Kit, honey. You don’t normally call me on Wednesdays. Is something wrong?”
“Just calling to say hi,” I lied, eyes wet and on the verge of tears.
“Work all right?”
“Yeah, work’s fine.”
She asked, “You can make it for your dad’s birthday, right? Next Sunday? I’m making my grocery list.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, jaw clenched tightly. “Yeah,” I lied. “I can definitely do next Sunday.”
“Good. That’ll make him happy.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “How was your bunco club?”
“You care about bunco?”
“Yes, I care.”
“Well, I hosted, and you know I love the summer months because I can make very nice fruit salads.”
“I’m sure that was a hit.” I hated to interrupt her, but I had to ask, “Is Dad around?”
“Sure, hon. I’ll grab him.”
“Thanks.” I waited silently with my phone pressed firmly to my ear.
My dad’s voice comes on the line. “How’s it going?”
“Hey. You still planning that golf trip at the end of the month?”
“Yeah. You want to come?”
I laughed. “No, god, you know I suck at golf. I was just wondering.”
We chatted for a while longer, both my parents together on the other end of the line.
I checked my watch, my face screwing up in pain.
Shit. I’m running behind. “I should probably get going… Bye. Talk to you later. Love you.” I hung up the phone and put my head in my hands, heaving in a few more deep breaths.
Fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t keep saying goodbye.
But I have to. It all ends tonight.
I called Cody, my brother, next. He didn’t answer.
My chest collapsed as I left a message. “Hey, it’s me.
I know you don’t answer phone calls and you especially don’t listen to messages, but listen to this one, okay?
I love you, Codes.” I pursed my lips. “Also, the candy stash that you’ve been looking for since you were ten is under that loose floorboard in my room.
Give Mom a call every once in a while, huh? ”
I hung up and checked my watch. “Thirty minutes,” I murmured aloud. I called Breanne, my sister, next.
She did answer. “Hey, what’s up? You need money?”
I broke into a huge grin. “No, just calling to say hi. Is Xander there?”
“Ah, you don’t even want to talk to me. Got it.”
“Sorry, he’s my favorite nephew. He’d be my favorite even if he wasn’t my only nephew.”
I heard Breanne in the background find her son and hand the phone over to him.
“Uncle Kit? Hi?”
I beamed widely at the sound of his voice. “Hey, kid.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. Or, well, I wanted to tell you I might not be able to make it to your game this weekend.”
“Oh. That’s fine.”
He sounded disappointed. Fuck. I closed my eyes tightly. “All right, cool. How’s school going?”
“Fine. Algebra sucks.”
“Well, math is shit, so yeah. Don’t tell your mom I said shit.”
“You can say shit. I’m in high school. I say shit.”
“Yeah, but in her eyes, you’ll always be six not sixteen. I don’t make the rules.”
“Sure.”
“You’re feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“But, like all good? No—nothing going on?”
“I haven’t been sick in years.”
“I know, but—”
“I’m good.”
“Okay… Okay, good.”
“Is that all? I have homework.”
“Yeah, no, good to talk to you. Love you, kid. Put your mom back on.”
He handed the phone back to Breanne.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
I grimaced. “Nothing, just calling to say hi,” I repeated.
“You never do that. You sure you’re okay?”
“Long day, Bre, that’s all.”
She hummed like she didn’t believe me. “You have to take care of yourself. You’re not sleeping.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“Well, do you want to come to dinner tonight?”
I shifted on the couch. “Dinner sounds amazing, but I don’t think I can tonight.”
“Okay, when then?”
“Soon,” I lied.
“Soon as in tomorrow? Or soon as in next week?”
“Not tomorrow. We can pick a date later, Bre.” I glanced at my watch again and gnawed at my lip. “Listen, I gotta go. I love you, all right?”
“I love you, too. Text me later, okay?”
“Okay. Bye.”
I hung up and put my head in my hand before picking it back up with a shake.
I scrolled down to one last contact: Jenna.
My finger hovered over her name before I tossed my phone to the side.
“No point,” I muttered. Things with her were long over—I didn’t need to haul old feelings back to the surface.
I dragged my hands down my face and checked my watch again. Five minutes.
I didn’t know what else to do, so I just…sat. I sat and stared forward, tears slowly leaking from my eyes. It was over. Nearly.
The clock counted down and hit eight p.m. On the dot, I sucked in a sharp breath and collapsed back into the couch. My heart stopped.
In the darkness, I heard a voice. “Christopher Mitchell. Right on time.”
He reached down to my body, reached a hand inside my chest, and latched on to something. He pulled, and out came a bright and glowing white sphere. The man lightly tossed the orb and from it, I appeared. That was my soul.
I gazed down at my body longingly. A body that was no longer mine. So many words came to mind, so many noises of agony I wanted to emit, but all I said was, “Damn.”
“Damned, indeed,” the man agreed. The man was tall and gray haired, with eyes sunken deep into his head.
He wore a long black overcoat and an emotionless expression.
He grabbed me by the arm, and the next thing I knew, I was getting shoved through the rusting iron bars of a cell, stumbling to the ground, knees collecting dirt.
I knew where I was without having to ask.
I’d known this was my final destination for the past ten years.
The man…the reaper gave me one last long assessment before saying, “Welcome to Hell, Mr. Mitchell.”