Today’s day requires someone step in for me, like a tag-team partner. I am too pent up to write my own slice, so thank goodness I have someone else to help me: Remember Jax? (from Work in Progress, First Pages, and the last time I wrote Someone Else’s Slice) Today’s slice is his:
Okay, I know I should be grateful. Should fall all over myself to pitch in, to help out, to show just how thankful I am that I’m not dying a slow and painful death from the fever that is gripping those topside.
I should be grateful.
But I’m not.
I didn’t ask for this. I’m not the one who conveniently had one too many kids. One more than would fit in the space reserved on the floor above me. I’m not the one that came here one kid shy of their allotment. I’m not the one who came up with the brilliant idea to implant some other kid’s identity under my skin. And I sure as hell am not the one who released the virus that made living here a prerequisite to survival.
Nope, none of these things is my fault.
And I should be falling all over myself to show how grateful I am to be here. I should, but I’m not. I can’t. Because at every turn, I am reminded that I am one of too many. I am filling a vacancy left by death. I am living a lie. And my being here simply reminds them that he’s not. My being here simply reminds them that there is a virus for which there is no cure. My mere existence here reminds everyone that we are one topside breath away from our own end. From a virus that has ended life as we know it.
So yeah, I should be grateful.
But I’m not.
There is something of a release–a relief–mething so to write the slice of the character who lives in
my mind…for now. I am participating in the 2017 Slice of Life Story Challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers. Tonight marks Day 20 in our 31-day challenge.