awsten had a gift.
having to live life with the gift that he had was a struggle. he could see how many days people had left to live. he saw them as walking numbers, some 65, some 28, and the most dreaded, 1 or 0. he knew when everyone around him was going to die. they didn't have a clue.
when awsten was young, he thought everyone could see the numbers. he would ask random people, "what's my number?" bur they would look at him funny. it took 3 psychics to diagnose him with this gift, or as awsten called it, curse. he just wanted to be normal.
school was hell for him because he knew everything. he knew about the accidental car crash that his 9th grade biology teacher was in. he knew that his mom would die when she turned 87. when he walked through the halls, all he saw was numbers. he felt horrible when he saw the kid sitting alone with his head down, the faint number 1 floating above him.
the thing is, awsten couldn't change anything. he couldn't help people with short numbers, nor could he tell them about it. you can't mess with fate. it's against the rules. he just had to forget it.
one day when sitting with his friend otto, awsten felt a tap on his shoulder. he looked up from the shane dawson video he was watching to look into the eyes of a tall, brown haired boy.
"excuse me," he started, "i'm new here and was wondering if you could show me where the office is?"
"of course, follow me." he grinned. awsten was a friendly guy with the biggest smile. he informed otto and walked towards the office, the boy following him close behind. when they got there, awsten smiled.
"what's your name?" he asked. the boy started toward the door.
"geoff wigington." he responded and walked into the office, leaving awsten alone in the hall. his heart dropped when he realized his number.
one.
