The water was consuming me. All the energy I had was being beaten out of me by the force of the waves. I knew there was no point in trying to stay above the surface. I had swam too far out past shore. No one would notice I was gone for a while, and when they did notice, they were going to find me dead. I was going to die alone. While everyone thought I was out happily enjoying the salty waves, I'd be 5 foot underwater, stone cold, with no pulse. I knew there was no point in trying anymore. There was no hope. There was nothing for me to do except sink. Sink to the bottom of the dark waters. As my fragile, weak body was weighed down through the water, the bubbles that I had released from my last breath of air surrounded me. The beautiful bubbles like crystals in the water which floated up to the surface, to be free. Something which I would never be again. As I shut my eyes, It was like gravity had shifted. I opened my eyes to see a sky full of stars. The stars seemed to wink at me mischievously. It was then that I realised that when I had sunk below the water, It had been day. Not night.
Was I dead? Was I imagining it all? I couldn't think straight. My head seemed to rattle as the gravity kept hold of me to the earth's surface. It was then that I realised I wasn't sinking anymore. I was falling. As I looked to my left, I noticed the lights that illuminated the surface below me. That was when I realised.
I wasn't in water. I wasn't drowning . I wasn't sinking. I was falling. Falling onto a city that was surrounded by a cape of stars. But the longer I stared at the stars, I noticed that stars they were not. But numbers. Hundreds of them. Just like the ones on peoples foreheads I see every day.
I woke up in a blind panic. My heart was beating so fast, it was like a lion trying to get out of a cage. My palms were sweaty and my t-shirt stuck to my damp skin. The numbers seemed to follow me everywhere. They constantly plagued the back of my mind. The numbers.
I've always been able to see the numbers. I've just never known what they meant. People usually had the a zero, it was the most common, but some people have ones. Some even more. The numbers were always in the same boring font. Luckily, it wasn't Comic Sans, because let's be honest, it's a shitty font.
I clambered out of my soft covers, that laid on my double bed. My breath slowed down in unison to my heart beat. I seemed to have the nightmare so often. The same darkness clung to me minutes after the dream I had experienced. There was something about it that just stuck with me. Like, there was some real truth behind the story. Like subconsciously I'm trying to tell myself something. I caressed the side of my neck. I felt ridges from where my sharp nails had dug into my skin during the nightmare. I stumbled over to the bathroom and leaned against the cold, porcelain sink. I needed to take my mind off of the dream. I needed to distract myself from my own thoughts. I turned around and looked at the photo's that sat on top of the oak dresser next to my bed across from the bathroom door. A photo of my girlfriend, Alice, stared back into my eyes. I picked up the delicate birch frame and stared back at the beautiful girl.
The beautiful girl that had a forty nine on her forehead.
A number too large to ignore. Larger than any other number I had ever seen. I brushed my finger against the glass covering the photo, trying to smudge the number away. I scraped at the glass with my nails, growing more aggravated by the minute. The pressure I was pressing on the glass was causing my hands to shake in anger. The pressure on the glass soon became too much. The cracks spread like a phoenix's wings. The glass shattered under my fingertips. The fragile shards punctured my delicate skin, and the crimson blood dyed the glass. Even though the glass was shattered, the number stayed there solid. It always did. It was always there. The number changed in photo's in unison to the persons forehead.
I never really wanted to know what the numbers meant. I tried once, but gave up. I knew that they were always there and that no one seemed to be able to see them. That the people that I told, that I could see numbers told me I was crazy. My curiosity in the number has recently peaked a new height. Alice's number was constantly plaguing me. The number fifty. This time I wasn't going to ignore what it meant. Nope. I am going to try and figure out what the numbers mean. What I can see. What makes me so different and how the numbers separate, not only me but everyone else.