suicide club
caitlyn was sara and she was upset with me. mark had death cab tickets and i couldn't go.as caitlyn leaned against the column of my front porch, i pleaded with her to tell me what was going on. but the tears just kept coming. she was making herself more upset because she was upset. it's called the metacry. crying about crying. it's a wicked spiral, and must be stopped in its early stages.
mark called again and i silenced his call. i had more important business to attend to. at least i thought i did. after one glance at the screen of my phone, i returned to comfort saracaitlyn, but she was gone.
i stood alone in my parents' garage, and i was a girl.
a nurse, in fact. my lab coat was starchy and uncomfortable, and i was suddenly wearing glasses that made my nose sweat. i sat on the hood of my dad's car and tried to get my bearings. a blonde woman was leaning, elbows on the trunk, and scribbling on her clipboard. she looked up at me and thanked me for being on time, "it's more than i can say for the others."
others? what others?
oh. those. all 15 other nurses that appeared during the course of that sentence. the one with the dark brown curls took charge.
"ok, here are your responsibilities for the day," she said, handing out clipboards to the rest of us. her voice was shaky, and her tone was insecure, as though she had recently been handed the title of head nurse. i took my clipboard and she smiled at me. "good to have you." i guess i was new.
my responsibility? sweep the garage. yay. the huddle broke and we scattered like dandelion seeds. slowly and deliberately, with purpose, but without guidance.
the lights went out. nobody spoke, but our feet kept shuffling. the garage was so dark it was almost tangible, as if a great black curtain had fallen on us. i fumbled in my pocket for a match, a flashlight, something to get me to the circuit breaker so i could test it. my fingers found a bic lighter. not my first choice in this situation, but it would do.
1, 2, 3, 4 flicks of the flint and i was 6 inches from a man with a scar 2 inches wide and 9 inches from temple to neck.
"cooperate with me. i'm supposed to make this look like a suicide."
he shot me in the face. i was dead, but somehow i knew the other nurses died too.
posted by ...TeamHarris! @ 10:36 PM
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