Sydney Shay
I stare at my painting, turning my head to find the best angle when my phone rings, jolting me up from my chair.
I feel my heart begin racing in my chest as I look over at the phone. I've been dreading this call my whole life. Today is the day I get my call from the Death Committee. Every June 6th, the people born 16 years from the current year get a call from the death committee to know when we'll die.
The thought of this day has been haunting me forever, to the point where I haven't been paying attention to what day it is. I didn't want to know when I'd get it, but the caller ID proves that it's today.
I take a deep breath and shakily bring my phone up to my ear. "Hello?"
"Hello there. I'm Emily Smith with the Death Committee. Is this Sydney Anne Shay?"
"Yes, I am."
She lets out a breath before continuing. "I regret to inform you that you're death day is July 5th of this year."
"W-what? Are you sure you have the right person?" I ask, my heart-stopping, as my body goes numb.
"I'm afraid not. I'm so sorry dear. Don't think of this as the end though. You still have a month to do everything you want to do. Plus, you'll have the afterlife as another adventure to embark on. It's not over yet, honey," She says, putting on a fake soothing voice. She obviously doesn't believe the words coming out of her mouth and she doesn't sound very optimistic. I guess if I had to tell people when they're going to die all day every day, I wouldn't be super positive either.
"Yeah," I reply, tears slowly running down my cheek. "Thanks."
"Of course. If you ever need ideas for what to do with your last few days, you can head to our website. There's plenty of pages on there to give you ideas. Take care," She says before hanging up.
I drop the phone and collapse, tears pouring down my face. My worst nightmare has just become a reality. I wish I didn't know when it was going to happen. I wish I could just live my life like normal but no. I'm going to die in a month and I can't do anything to change it.
I look up across the room at my painting and realize it's useless to finish it. I've been working on it for two years. Why would I think I could finish it in a month?
"Sydney, did you get your call?" My dad asks as he opened my door.
"What's wrong honey?" He asks as he wraps his arm around me after sitting on the hardwood floor.
"They told me I only have until July 5th," I mumbled, looking up at him.
I watch his eyes glaze with tears, "I-It's going to be okay."
Watching him like this hurt even more. My mom wasn't properly registered in the system when she was born so she didn't get her call from the Death Committee. Her death was a surprise. She passed away three years ago and we've never been able to get over that.
It was hard not knowing when she was going to pass but I feel like knowing is a million times harder.
"You'll get to see your mother again soon," He said, forcing a smile.
"Yeah, I guess," I mumbled and wipe my face.
"It's going to be okay, Syd," He said and held me close.
I took a breath and my phone began to buzz. I reached out for it and glanced at my screen. "It's Farrah. She wants to meet at the pizzeria."
"Sure, honey. You should get your mind off of all of this," he replies, wiping his face before looking at me. "Would you like me to drive you?"
I shake my head, "No, it's okay. I don't want you to have to do that."
"You sure? It's really no big deal. I can go get Abby ready and-"
"Dad, it's fine. Thank you though," I reply.
"Okay," He nods. "I love you Sydney."
"I love you too, dad," I say, hugging him before he leaves my room. I sigh and look around before going to my closet and picking something to wear.
I quickly get ready, text Farrah and then head to the living room. "I'm going to head out now."
"Okay, have fun," My dad smiles.
"Wait! I want a hug!" My little sister, Abby shouts as she ran over to me. I smiled softly and hugged her.
"I love you, Abby."
"Love you too," She smiles before running back over to her toys.
I smile before grabbing my keys and heading out to the car. I get in and began driving over to the restaurant, blasting music to try and stop my thoughts from coming back, but they just keep coming.
I hate that this is all happening. All my life I was dreading this call, relying only on the thought that maybe everything would be fine. It's not though. Things aren't fine and they won't be fine. I'm going to be dead next month. I have to accept it.
