Slower and Slower (Steve)

I watched a video of Alex's dance showcase. Not only did Alex dance beautifully, she did so in a way that made her look like another dancer. Marked by maturity and poise, she made music with her body. Every step and turn flowed into the next with ease. Clearly on her last leg, Alice slept to me. The world is weird that way. The best and the worst moments of two peoples' lives can take place at the same time when neither knows the other well.

Not only that, but the good and the bad are intertwined like different-colored fibers of a rope. Lisette got doxxed by Avenge Havencraft just for speaking about the Mindcrack suicide crisis--and this was before she implied that they were the ones who tried to kill me with a needle cookie. As a celebrity, I try not to stir controversy over any given topic because that can get me killed or doxxed. However, as a teacher, I'm still going to stick to my convictions and say if something is right or wrong because that's what my students deserve. If nothing else, I can teach my students how to do the right thing in the face of adversity--and that's better than any music.

Alice's hand began to feel cold against mine. I tried saying a few things to her, but she didn't respond. If she was dying, at least she was dying peacefully. She groaned; I adjusted her pillow. Alice blinked, her eyes full of tears. I heard that this was normal when people die, but this all seemed so surreal. Sunlight streamed in from the window while the monitors ran. The footage of Alex played as she danced the ensemble number. I saw a blood stain spreading on Alex's slipper as Alice's breathing rate increased.

Even though it became apparent that someone had slipped glass into her slipper, Alex danced and showed no trace of pain on her face. Alice breathed normally and her breathing became slower and slower as the tempo of the music increased. Having had a part in both these girls' lives was the highest honor and privilege I could have ever received. Though they are different in many ways, they are alike in dignity in resilience.

Alice's skin turned blue. Alex left a clear trail of blood as she moved across the stage. She collapsed in an older girl's arms as I noticed something peculiar about Alice's breathing.

The telltale "death rattle" was as clear as the toll of a bell. Each breath sounded more labored than the last. I took this moment to say something to Alice, something I should have said more often.
          "I know I say it all the time, but I love you." Alice's breathing slowed even more. Life was a battle for her and I aided in her fight. Still, it hurt to see her like this, worse than any other pain.

Alice's breathing tapered off getting quieter and quieter, slower and slower. Her last breath was barely perceptible. When I withdrew, it all seemed so surreal. The sun shined as it always did. I looked down at my phone to discover that Landon got two gigs: a presentation at Mineplex High School and an opportunity to perform at an ice show. He was already preparing for the latter.

But why am I not angry at his selfishness? The nurses covered Alice's head and wheeled her body to the morgue. I should be angry. I should be livid. But I'm not. As a nurse approached me, I felt a cramp and an all too familiar slimy sensation. I excused myself to use the restroom. If anyone knew about my condition, it'd be all over the news and exploited for TV ratings. The blood soaked all the way through my pants. How am I going to explain this? And why am I even thinking this when my child just died before my eyes?

I don't know what I'll tell Landon. I mean, springing two serious issues on someone at once normally doesn't bode well for the listener.