Sixteen Small Deaths Read Online Free PDF

and concrete and wood of the ceiling before finding its place in the sky. She sat up and grinned, long trail of cool breath filtering from her lips.
    I backed away, all knowing what would happen next. She stood, traced an imaginary circle in the air with her fingers.
    “I am yours,”
she said.
“Forever.”
    White fingernail-polish soon dipped into the red behind her eyes, chasm of stringy tissue and pink flesh pulled apart with reckless abandon. Within a matter of seconds the goopy blobs that were once her eyes were in her hands, simmering trail of blue-black blood dripping from her palms and onto the floor.
    “For you,”
she said, and then whatever bits of life were left in her tiny frame dissipated into cold and shocking silence.
    #
    Georgie knocks three times, pauses, and knocks thrice more so I know it’s him at my apartment door. He’s wearing black jeans and a tight Metallica t-shirt embattled in a gray blazer. He stares straight ahead upon entering and plops down on my living room sofa. He flips on the television and sighs.
    “I was sleeping, you know.” Click-click-click on the remote until he settles on an old episode of ‘The Twilight Zone.’ It’s the one where a woman in a condemned apartment is fearful of letting in a wounded police officer for fear he is Death.
    I light a cigarette and lean against the wall. “I know, and I’m sorry. But you’ve helped me before, and, well…as you can see, I need your help again.” I point to her body on the floor, wince only when I picture our evening before the kiss.
    Georgie tosses the remote on the coffee table and scrapes his boots against the living-room carpet, kneels next to her and shakes his head. “Ten years, now, Mick, and you haven’t learned, have you?”
    I grind my teeth, let the rage pass. Georgie’s here to help me and it’s not the time for anger against anyone but myself. “You don’t know what it’s like, living with this.”
    He stands up and pats me on the shoulder. “Relax, I’ll take care of this. Go grab a drink or something. Take a walk. You need to calm down.”
    Nodding, I sigh and snatch my wallet and keys on the littletable next to the door. I look back, see Georgie drag her into the hallway. My last vision of her is the black-and-gold flats on her feet, slight inch of pale skin disappearing as I slam shut the door behind me.
    #
    I’m on my seventh cigarette and third glass of whiskey. A game show is on the television above the bar but the screen is a blurring jumble of dark flashes. I remember a time where it was okay to enjoy moments like these, savor them with the full flavor of life and vigor that come along with being a normal man. A younger couple playfully flirts with each other a few stools down, the woman with a radiant blossom of love on her face, the man stoic save for a smile and satisfied eyes.
    I haven’t felt like they do in nearly a decade. It’s not that I don’t feel the swash of warm in my heart…it’s that it can’t be contained for very long. It’s akin to trapping a firefly in a bottle; its shine is gorgeous and balmy but it doesn’t last long before death finds its way in. All it takes is a kiss, a splatter of affection through my lips. Seconds, minutes, it’s all a goddamn shadow to me. The result is always the same. Shock, fear, bloodshed and death.
    And to think, this would all be different if I hadn’t died ten years ago.
    #
    I pay my tab and throw on my jacket, cold nighttime wind whipping at my back. It’s November and at any second it could snow. Slight buzz ringing in my head but my steps are solid and focused. A decade with this curse, this unfortunate attribute that has kept me away from life.
    I was two years fresh out of college, spinning towards a live-life-on-the-edgelifestyle, unaware that my choices could very well shape my future for the worst. It took an overdose, a mix of heroin and fentanyl, a cocktail which broke my heart and shut down my lungs. I was technically