(this is a submission for jamriot’s weekly writing event. i have picked prompt 3, which is “write about a character who was buried alive.”)

TWENTY SEVEN SECONDS.

i’m met with void-like darkness when i open my eyes. my body is soaked in what seems like months worth of sweat. the overwhelming sound of raindrops hitting the ground above me gives me the answer to a question i hadn’t thought to ask myself yet. where the hell am i, and why can’t i see?

i take oxygen for granted. the condensation of my breath builds up against the wood i feel centimeters from my lips. as i exhale, my breath makes a wave of heat surrounding my face, as the condensation starts to drip down back onto me. it hits me. the worst has happened. i know what she did.

i yell. i scream. i need someone to hear me. she doesn’t understand what she’s doing. i start to kick my feet as hard as i can. eventually a kick causes the top of my enclosure to flip up rather easily with the help of heavy winds. my sweat starts to act as a coolant to my body upon the introduction to the breeze.

i need to get up. i need to go home quickly. i need to fix this. my knees struggle to move, but eventually allow me to crawl out of my hole.

struggling to stand, i carefully turn around.

there she is, sitting there on a cloth with a gun and a shovel. unsurprised and careless as ever. that’s all she’s ever been like. how did i not always see it that way?

“you know you deserve this.” 

we used to joke about burying each other alive all the time, but now the facade is gone. the mask was lifted after the divorce, and she has made sure to ruin my life as much as she could. it was only a matter of time before she pulled something like this, especially with how absolutely insane she’s becoming with her sixteen different bullshit medications.

i can’t contain my anger. “how dare you try to take me away from my family.”

“your family? no, this can’t be your family anymore. i know what you did, jace. why am i talking to you still? you’re supposed to be asleep in that coffin! i thought the chlorophyll, chloroform, whatever the hell it’s called would last longer. i guess both of us fucked up our calculations, didn’t we? at least i learned to bring a gun for this kind of thing.”

calculations? what the fuck does that mean? i don’t have the energy or focus to listen to her maniacal ramblings. 

“you’re a crazy bitch, lisa. do you even hear yourself right now? i know you broke into my house and drugged me so you could bury me out in god knows where. your fake ass boyfriend, turner, wouldn’t stop calling me behind your back to tell me that. our kids were in there, lisa! you so desperately want them to grow up without their real father, don’t you? maybe you should’ve thought to-“

“i know you killed your ex wife and her two sons. i found your confession to the cops after you confessed to cheating on me with her at the beginning of our relationship. don’t you fucking play games with me, because i know who you are, and how you act.”

oh. she knows about what i did to amelia. in full detail. she knows where the bodies are. she knows why my alibi doesn’t work. 

oh.

i rush for the gun beside her on the cloth. thankfully, i beat her to it and i pull the trigger while aimed straight at the center of her forehead… nothing happens.

i take the magazine out and see there is no ammo. what a dumbass. she forgot guns need bullets. 

“good job trying to be a hero, but you’re too fucking stupid to load a pistol. now you just made things awkward for us. seriously, fuck you lisa. you’ve wasted so much of my time with this useless stunt that you clearly didn’t think through. you deserve to die just like amelia did, and her two worthless boys!”

lisa, that crazy psycho bitch, stares at me with frozen shock. tears start to form in her bloodshot eyes, as she trembles with labored breath.

“NOW, TURNER!”

the contents of a shotgun shell merge with my internal organs as blood bursts from my body. i fall straight into the hole.

twenty seven.

twenty six. 

twenty five. 

twenty four.

twenty three.

twenty two. 

twenty one.

twenty. 

nineteen.

eighteen. 

seventeen.

sixteen.

fifteen.

fourteen.

thirteen.

twelve.

eleven.

ten. 

nine.

eight.

seven.

six. 

five.

four.

lisa and turner look down in the hole to watch me die. lisa is on the phone. 

three.

lisa gasps and breaks out in tears.

two.

“we couldn’t find it, but it worked. he confessed.”

one.