Page 113

11:47 p.m.

If today were my End Day, would I call my father?

Thursday, October 24, 2019. The day I attempted suicide. I could see that the sky was clear from here in my bedroom. I hadn’t

received an alert, but I was still determined. I didn’t let myself think about my mother or Bucky. Only my father, who made

me want to die. There was no need for a suicide note because he would’ve known what pushed me over the edge.

“There was a time when I wouldn’t have called my father,” I say. I anchor myself to the present because I don’t want my brain

flooded with every awful memory that led to my suicide attempt. I scroll through my memories and confirm that I never told

Paz about this. “I bought this time capsule at Present-Time.”

Paz sucks his teeth. “That place.” If Margaret Hunt hadn’t delivered Paz’s gifts straight into Ms. Gloria’s hands, he wouldn’t

be at war with his mother right now.

I’m transported back into Present-Time, hiding behind the grandfather clock as the Death Guarder destroyed the shop. That fear of being killed stays with me, thrusting me through a sequence of memories: my assassination attempt, which led to my deactivating Death-Cast, which led to my sneaking away to the Wisdom Tree, which led to climbing the Hollywood Sign to save Paz, which brings me back into the present with him, only to throw myself back into the cold past when I say, “I bought this time capsule on December first.”

“When does it unlock?”

That question anchors me since it’s about an unknown future. “Depends on when I die.”

“It unlocks when you die?”

“It’s technically supposed to, but since it’s connected to my Death-Cast profile, the link has been severed. I would have

to resync the capsule with my identification number.”

He squints at the clock with his tired eyes. “It’s not super big. What do you even fit in there? A note?”

“A voice recorder, like the tech used in the objects you selected.”

“Is it too personal to ask what you said?”

“Parting words for my parents. Caretaking instructions for Bucky. And...” I stare at my blurry reflection in the clock’s

rose gold face, but in my head I see the memory I’ve locked away. “A confession.”

Paz wakes up at this. “A confession? Anything you wanna talk about?”

“I should, but I’ve ruined my life enough for one lifetime.”

My heart is racing as gunshots ring through my head.

Paz reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Just because I’m trying harder to live doesn’t mean you can’t trust me anymore to

take your secrets to the grave.”

Trust isn’t the problem. “I appreciate that.”

“No pressure, obviously, but in the meantime, you might wanna consider leaving your secrets somewhere safe since this won’t

unlock anymore.”

“That won’t be an issue.”

“Why not?”

I gaze into Paz’s light brown eyes. “I’ve been doing some soul-searching as I finally see the potential for the future I want.

I need to know that I’ll be around to live it. I’m going to reactivate Death-Cast for peace of mind.”

Paz fully sits up now. “Are you serious? But what about your dad?”

“Last night my father asked for the opportunity to prove that he can give me the space to live my life. I believe in him,”

I say, which feels so powerful and relaxing. I don’t want to be at war with my father. All that does is make everything a

thousand times harder and pushes us to that place where I’m willing to die without him knowing as payback. Besides, everything

my father has done was to keep my blood off these streets. I’m lucky to have a father who is so overprotective instead of

destructive like Paz’s father.

“I like knowing that you’re gonna survive the day,” Paz says.

“I like you liking that,” I say. I read the time on my clock. “Ten minutes to midnight.”

“Your last ten minutes of living pro-naturally.”

“Only if I reactivate in time,” I say, getting up to grab my phone out of its lockbox and then returning to my bed. I open

the Death-Cast app and begin filling out my profile.

My father is going to be so happy to hear the news of my reactivation.

This pro-natural experiment was heartbreaking for my father, and as liberating as it was for me, it’s not worth the trouble

it’s causing between us or the rest of the world. President Page and the company’s board members have been hounding my father

over the severity of my choice, a choice that has my parents stuck at Death-Cast tonight. Undecided voters are reportedly

leaning toward Carson Dunst since my deactivation has spoken volumes about the harmfulness of Death-Cast. Agent Andrade has

had to station more guards inside and outside this building now that the world knows I’m vulnerable. One quick peek on social

media shows strangers welcoming me back into the pro-natural fold, which makes me long for the days when they were threatening

my life. I don’t want my life to cause any more pain. Tomorrow morning I’ll release the statement with the news of my reactivation

to quell all concerns about where I stand with Death-Cast.

I submit my profile information and receive an error notice telling me that I’m already registered. Have I not been pro-natural

all this time? No, I received my confirmation on Friday, July 24, at 8:45 p.m. PDT. This must be some glitch. I review the

account history and see that my alerts were reactivated on Tuesday, July 28, at 1:49 a.m. PDT. Unless I’m beginning to lose

my memory, I didn’t do this. But who...

I can’t breathe, and I’m not sure if I need air or my inhaler.

My father isn’t going to be happy to hear the news of my reactivation because he already reactivated my profile behind my back.

This is an absolute violation of not only company policy but also our relationship.

I get up and throw my phone against my sunset wall, shattering it. It surprises and scares Paz and Bucky and even myself.

I’ve never thrown anything in anger in my entire life.

“What’s going on?” Paz asks, following me around the bedroom.

My breath feels stuck inside my chest, like my father is squeezing my lungs. “He’s never going to let me live my life,” I

say, repeating it until hot tears burn my eyes.

“Who?” Paz asks, trying to steady me, but I keep shrugging him off.

“My father!”

No matter how empowered I feel, my father will always use his power over me.

I storm out into the rooftop garden and fall to my knees, gasping for air. This isn’t asthma. This is suffocating anxiety.

Paz follows, keeping Bucky inside.

“Talk to me,” Paz says.

“He signed me up for Death-Cast against my will,” I say.

This isn’t like when my father sat me down to tell me about Death-Cast on Monday, June 28, 2010, before the company’s intentions were officially announced on Thursday, July 1. Even then my father had the decency to ask me if I’d like to be signed up with the rest of the family, a choice he didn’t have to respect when I was underage. This isn’t even like when my father abused his power to make sure I wasn’t going to die in the hospital after Mac Maag’s assassination attempt. This decision is so violating, and it’s one I can’t wrap my head around. I can almost pardon this violation if he’d done this after Andrea Donahue and Carson Dunst teamed up to expose my pro-natural status. But according to the timestamp, my father did this when I was in bed with Paz, protecting him from hurting himself. My father must’ve been fearing that Paz was a danger to me, but he’s the real threat to my life.

“That’s fucked up,” Paz says. “But I need you to breathe. I’ve never seen you like this.”

I haven’t felt like this since October 24.

This is a signal that life was never supposed to work out.

I stare up at the stars, wondering if Paz was right when he said we aren’t meant to be together. I’ve kept hoping that our

meeting was part of some grand plan to save us, but it’s not. We’re doomed and we have been since the start.

Time blurs between now and then, this moment and memories. It’s like I’m time-traveling at warp speed. It’s dizzying, and

my usual trick to anchor myself to the present by focusing on the future is compromised because all I see is darkness right

now. There is no future for someone responsible for more deaths than he could ever know. No dream life.

This is how you survive an End Day. You don’t even know that you were safe all along.

I will prove my father wrong. He has already controlled my life, but he will not control my death too.

Memento mori. Memento mori. Memento mori.

Remember you must die. Remember you must die. Remember you must die.

I remember I must die.

I remember. I remember. I remember.

That is my future, and when I’m back in the present, I find myself on the edge of my rooftop. One step forward and I will

drop thirty stories and die where I was almost assassinated.

My father forced Death-Cast’s warnings on me. I will die without one.