19 Days Until

Prologue

For as long as I've been able to remember, I could always see them. They always appeared above people's heads. Numbers. I didn't know what they meant at first. But after some time, I was able to put two and two together. Some people had extremely large numbers. I remember walking by a group of kids my age and seeing similar numbers over their heads. 25,078. 29,740. 24,489. Then some people had somewhat small numbers. 235. 381. 370. 267. Then there were the tiny numbers. 7. 11. 18. Those hurt me the most.

Growing up, learning about numbers coincided with learning how to speak. I lived in a family of mathematicians after all. I didn't figure it out that quickly. I mean, how could I? I was a kid. But I finally figured it out when my Grammy passed away. It was when her number read 0. Along with the rest of my family, I cried. But I also felt immense guilt. Sure, it was cancer that took her life, but I couldn't help feeling guilty that I didn't tell my family about the number. I never told anyone. And the thing is, I never talked again. I couldn't bring myself to speak after that. My family tried to help. It was no use. And I wanted to tell them why I was like this, but they probably would never understand. They'd probably think I was insane and put me in a mental asylum. I'm not crazy. The numbers are real. It's no coincidence. It's no figment of my imagination. But I have no clue why I see them. I guess I'll never know.

I communicate with a dry erase board and marker. I much prefer writing than using my hands to communicate, although I could never explain why. I guess it's because I can talk to more people. Unfortunately for me, growing close to people can be sad. It can be traumatic. Because I know when they are going to die. And each time I see them, the number decreases, a constant reminder of their fate. If I'm lucky, their number will be large, and I won't have to worry about them leaving me. That's not always the case. Sometimes, I meet one of the smaller numbers. I try not to get close to them, but fate is cruel. The best ones tend to be the ones with the least amount of time.