Number 56

I stare at the anger in her eyes. As she tightens the grip of my hand, I stare down at my fate below me, the smooth, rocky surface stares back in silence.

"Let me go," I say in a tired tone. I close my eyes and force my mind to fully flashback my life before hitting the floor. The smoke surrounds us, the bad decisions of mine heating my skin. Maybe if I werent so intimidated by my mirror, this wouldn't have escalated the way it did.

I do die eventually, but not from this. But in order for you to find out how I need to tell you how it all started.

I live in a world where our alternate version of ourselves can co-exist. No consequence, and it doesn't fix your past, present or future.

But you also have the choice to be the last one standing. I am met versions of myself. Young and old, male or female. And I always felt threatened by them. They grew up in similary happy lives and were able to achieve their desired dreams. Meanwhile I was born with a scowl on my face. I hated people, music, art, and pretty much anything enjoyable and didn't have friends growing up.

A baby that grows bitter eventually curds and rots. As smart as a whip but as sour as a thousand year old egg.

I saw my first version of myself. She was captain of the cheerleading squad. Had friends all over the world and had straight A's. She had a happy home life and looked beautiful. All this I never was. The day she kissed the ground from a 30 story building was the last day she was on earth. And it was the start of my chaos.

Her parent's mourned her for months, and the school she attended was doing a memorial. I analyzed the people there when I attended. We, or the others to the ones that passed, had to attend the funeral. We were supposed to as others.

It was the law. It was established months after our realities cracked, causing us to co-exist.

The others, some were friends. Showing gratitude and establishing empathy in the people who were mourning.

I never understood how they could. Seeing my face on a person that had a happier life wasn't okay with me.

But let me tell you how it all started.

It started yesterday morning at the hospital. As I rush my patient into the ER, I meet her for the first time. She wore a long scarf that spilled with the colors of yellow and brown, which brightened the dark blue room. Her long curly hair framed her round face. She twiddled with her thumbs impatiently. The waiting room was always a metaphor for the staff here. "A moment of silence, a game of patience before the worst day of your life," said my husband. He was serious and barely joked, but whenever he did, there was a sick truth latched to it. He was a surgeon and had seen more than enough deaths to understand the sad truth of life. That it would end. But how could he explain that a chubbier, more emotional version of me would be waiting there with her wounded husband? Her screams echoed through the room, and the sudden surprise immediately became annoyance. Her downcast eyes looked up at me with sadness. The realization suddenly arose in her eyes when she realized who I was. She jumped up and tried to flee to the door. I grabbed her arm and immediately dragged her into the empty hospital room. She grew angry as I closed the door.

"I think I might have smoked too much," she says, her lips quivering. I rolled my eyes.

"Figures you smoked that crap. I don't even look at the stuff." I analyzed her with a smug look on my face. Looking at her, I realized she's an unstable version of me. Riddled with too much emotion.

I roll my eyes again as she holds her chest. She wheezes while looking at the ground. I take a syringe and check for measurements before sticking it into her back. She takes one more inhale before passing out.

As I look at the lazier version of myself lying unconscious, I take a cigarette and place it in my mouth. I squint my eyes as I light the end and take a nice inhale. I ash the cigarette on her back as I proceed to the emergency room.

After the surgery, I sit out with my husband. A silence between us comforted each other, with the low ambiance of cars and his breath as he exhaled.

"I met my other today." He stopped exhaling and looked at me from his left side; his face was still facing forward. "And?" he said, anticipating the answer.

"She was ugly and fat," I responded quickly, giving him the same look. He looked straight again.

"You're not talking about the girl with the rainbow scarf, right?" I turned to him completely in shock.

"She and her boyfriend checked out 15 minutes ago while you were in surgery." A smile crept on his face, which made me quickly panic.

I quickly rose and ran to the patient's room, where I left her to rot. He was right; she somehow recovered and left.

Anger rose from my feet to my face. I ran back out of the hospital screaming in a frantic state. "WHERE ARE YOU?" Patients coming in and out looked at me in confusion, wondering what was going on.

The search was on, and I was motivated.

This wasn't the first time I saw her on her birthday a few years ago.

A THC cigarette in her mouth while she lay on the cold snow. She was avoiding the part which was in her nature anyway. Her parent's didn't look for her and knew she just needed some time to herseld.

I approached her with a knife in my hand. As I hovered over her, her eyes slowly met mine. Her eyes were glassy and red, which matched her dyed A day before mine. She just turned 18 and was hiding from her family members hair. Not one ounce of surprise was on her face.

"My mom said she saw you at number 45's funeral," she said to me in a low tone. The same smile from my husband crept on her lips, which was painted black."

"Number what?" I say back, trying to keep my composure.

"Number 45. She was the 45th one. The 16-year-old." She carefully grabbed the cigarette from her hands and blew carefully. As she flicks it, she laughs.

"So am I the last one on the list?" I nodded slowly. She laughed again and rose up. She analyzed my shaking hand, which held the knife. "You don't even have the balls to kill me. You're scared, aren't you?"

Adrenaline shot through me like a cannon as I lunged at her shoulder. She screams. I try lunging again as she tries to run. She runs into the house, which is when her parents run out with a shotgun, aiming at me.

Without a word, I drop the knife in the snow. The blood decorated the tip of the knife, a bright red color. Without a second thought, her father shoots me in the shoulder, the same spot where she was stabbed.

I woke up in a hospital, with the officer reading me my rights, letting me know that my coming after her was legal. Though the officer had a look of disgust on their face as the nurse beside him. Most people thought it was unruly and animal what I was doing to my others. But I didn't care, there only needed to be 1 of me, not 100.

As I headed home after clocking out from work early, I finally saw her at the foot of my house. She waited patiently with her keys in her hands.

"We need to talk, Number 4," she said coldly. I ignored her as I unlocked the door to my house. She looked up at me with hate in her eyes.

"You know I'm smarter than that, Number 4. You know I would discover where you are." I rolled my eyes with disdain.

"And who the fuck told you that you are the smarter one?"

"That's why you saved me for last, right? Because I "intimidated" you?" The same smug smile crept on her lips again. I did my best to ignore her and shut the door behind me.

"Fucking psychopathic bitch." I heard under her breath through the door.

"If you wanna settle this, you know where to go. And I'll be waiting for you there. Without a word, she got up and walked to her car.

A few hours later, we meet at the edge of the earth. The huge crater which went all the way the the core was attempted suicide as long as a road trip, with your death glowing ablaze below. A perfect place to finally push her down.

I wait for her in the cold night, the warm breath escapes my lips, I'm wearing all black to blend in with the night. I sit in silence.

I look at the watch on my wrist and exhale loudly. Suddenly I hear a car coming, I look around to try to find it. Suddenly I get hit on my stomach the moving car moving faster and faster towards the edge. I hear my other screaming with ancipation. I scream back, doing my best to move away. I feel my legs getting crushed underneath the car and I scream, feeling my bones break.

She stops the car and come out with a punch to my head, she grabs me and hovers me over the edge with pure hate in her eyes.

I stare at the anger in her eyes. As she tightens the grip of my hand, I stare down at my fate below me, the smooth, rocky surface stares back in silence. The smooth rock I hoped my head would land out, causing me to pass out before finally meeting my doom.

"Let me go," I say in a tired tone. I close my eyes and force my mind to fully flashback my life before hitting the floor. The smoke surrounds us, the bad decisions of mine heating my skin. Maybe if I werent so intimidated by my mirror, this wouldn't have escalated the way it did.

"Why did you have to do this to yourself?" she asked angrily, tighening the grip on my neck. "Do you see what you fucking did?" she cusses at me with her front teeth, showing her rage. I stare back in fear. I thought this one was going to be my easiest, that's why I saved her for last. Meanwhile she carefully counted our other based on age and put them in numerical order.

"Before I let you go..." she says "I look at her with tears with me eyes.

"I knew you were coming after me, I just wished you had more of a brain to figure out."

My eyes widen with shock realizing how observant she was. My husband was her eyes, and so was mother. That's why she stopped looking at me in the eyes after my 18th birthday. She was after me all this time.

"I'm Number 56." she says with sadness.

As I feel her let me go I stare at her face, that's now covered with tears.

I slowly close my eyes, accepting my fate.

I guess she was the smarter one.

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