Counting Seconds Until You Die

The Caldwell family was haunted by a legacy of early graves. Every man in their bloodline carried a genetic ticking clocknone had ever made it past thirty. My familys lineage was the only antidote, a tradition of spiritual and physical tethering that kept the darkness at bay through marriage.

But on the day of our wedding, Bennett Caldwell didnt say "I do." Instead, he reached into his tuxedo jacket, pulled out our marriage contract, and tore it to shreds in front of the entire congregation. He did it for herhis college sweetheart, the "one who got away" who had suddenly come back into his life.

His mother rushed forward, her face pale with terror, trying to stop him.

Bennett ignored her. He looked at me with eyes full of a localized, burning hatred. "Morgan, youre nothing but a parasitic fraud," he spat, his voice echoing through the cathedral. "My family has been bled dry by yours for nearly a century. Youve tricked us with ghost stories and superstition to fund your lifestyle. Well, the free ride ends today."

Brooke, the woman standing at his side, leaned into him. She wore a smug, dismissive smile as she looked at me. "What are you still standing there for? Get out." She adjusted her glasses, the light catching her "Dr. Brooke Stevens" name tag from the hospital. "I have a PhD in medicine, Bennett. Trust me, with real science on your side, you wont just live past thirtyyoull live to a hundred. You dont need a witch."

I thought about Bennetts pulse this morning. It had been a thready, fading vibration, barely a whisper against my fingertips.

A cold, hard knot formed in my chest. Fine, I thought. His thirtieth birthday is in three days. Well see whos right very soon.

I turned to leave, but Bennetts mother, Mrs. Caldwell, grabbed my hand, her fingers trembling.

"Morgan, please! Don't go!" She spun toward her son, her voice cracking. "Bennett, apologize to her right now. Stop this madness!"

Bennett didnt move. He kept his hand firmly locked with Brookes.

"You know exactly why we have this arrangement," Mrs. Caldwell hissed, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper. "Thirty years ago, your uncle tried to break the cycle. He was crushed by a semi-truck on the morning of his thirtieth birthday. And your cousin? He laughed at the 'curse' just like you are now. He dropped dead of a massive hemorrhage the second he blew out his candles. You have three days left, Bennett! You are flirting with death!"

"Enough, Mom!" Bennett roared. "Uncle Mark was an accident. My cousin had an undiagnosed heart condition. It has nothing to do with some backwoods ritual marriage!"

He pointed a finger at me, laughing mockingly. "This 'curse' is a scam designed specifically to milk the Caldwell estate. I look at her and I feel sick. If you force me to marry this con artist, I wont wait for my birthday. Ill end it right now."

In a flash of dramatic instability, Bennett pulled a pocketknife from his vest and pressed the blade against his own throat.

Brooke let out a sharp gasp and dropped to her knees before Mrs. Caldwell, sobbing. "Please, just trust the science for once! Ive had Bennett on a state-of-the-art biometric monitor for weeks. His vitals are perfect! Let us prove it to you. I spent years in med school specifically so I could protect him from this nonsense. Give him a chance to be free!"

"Mom, if you don't back down..." Bennett pressed harder. A thin line of crimson bloomed on his neck, staining the white silk tie I had picked out for him myself.

"I agree! Stop!" Mrs. Caldwell screamed. She lunged forward, wrestling the knife away from him, then turned to me with eyes full of agonizing guilt. "Morgan... I'm so sorry..."

"Its okay," I said, cutting her off. I forced a small, sharp smile. "I truly hope Brooke can break the 'curse.' It would be nice for the women in my family to finally be free of yours."

I turned and walked out. Behind me, Bennetts voice followed, thick with disgust. "Good riddance, you gold-digging bitch! Don't let the door hit you!"

I ran until I hit the humid air of the parking lot. The second the heavy doors closed, I doubled over. Cough. A mouthful of thick, black blood splattered onto the pavement.

I should have stayed at the sanctuary for a few more years of training. But three years ago, when Bennett first took my hand and told me he loved me, I believed him. I was young, and his devotion felt like a sun I wanted to bask in. Even then, I could feel the weakness in his marrow through his pulse.

Because I loved him, I had knelt before my mentor for seven days and seven nights, begging for permission to leave the mountain early to save him. For three years, I had sustained his life by siphoning his darkness into my own body, enduring the sensation of my internal organs being slowly ground to dust every single night.

I thought it was a sacrifice for the man Id spend my life with. I didn't realize that his "love" was just a gamea cheap thrill to see if he could bed the "mystic girl" before he threw her away.

I wiped the blood from my chin and ignored the stabbing pain in my chest. I just wanted to go home and sleep. But when I reached my apartment, the world shifted under my feet. The hallway was covered in red spray paint: SCAMMER. WITCH. SLUT.

My front door was hanging off its hinges. Smoke billowed out. My sanctuary, the place I had carefully curated for three years, was being consumed by a roaring fire.

Inside that apartment were the journals and talismans I had spent years writing, using my own blood to anchor the protection spells that kept Bennett alive.

I lost my mind. I sprinted toward the flames, desperate to save the only things that proved my sacrifice. But I only made it one step inside before a tongue of fire licked across my arm.

The skin hissed and peeled away, exposing raw, weeping flesh. The salt from my tears hit the burn, and I screamed.

"A little dramatic, don't you think?"

I spun around. Bennett was standing at the end of the hall, Brooke tucked under his arm. He was looking at my charred, bloody arm with a smirk. "Oh, I thought you were some kind of immortal goddess. Do you actually feel pain like the rest of us?"

"Bennett, why?" I gasped, clutching my arm. "Everything in there... if those are gone, you don't have a chance!"

"Enough!" Bennett stepped forward and grabbed my throat, slamming me against the soot-covered wall. "Stop talking about your voodoo bullshit! Its pathetic! Im not just burning your toys, Morgan. Im going to make sure the whole world knows what a fraud you are."

Before I could breathe, a swarm of reporters and paparazzi flooded into the narrow hallway. Cameras flashed, blinding me.

"Ms. Thorne, how much money did you embezzle from the Caldwells over the last three years?"

"Is it true you used 'curses' to blackmail a dying man into an engagement?"

"You're a criminal! You should be in jail!"

A woman in the crowd reached out and grabbed my burned arm, twisting the raw flesh. I collapsed to the floor, my vision blurring into white-hot agony. Kicks landed on my ribs, my stomach, my back.

Bennett just watched, laughing as he led Brooke away.

By that evening, I was the top trending topic on social media.

[Caldwell Heirs Ex-Fiance Exposed as Occult Con Artist! Hundreds of thousands of dollars stolen through 'superstition'!]

[Science Wins: Dr. Brooke Stevens Breaks Century-Long 'Family Curse'!]

I stumbled through the streets in my charred, ruined wedding dress. I tried to go to a department store to buy somethinganythingto cover myself, but my card was declined.

The automated voice on the phone was cold. "Ms. Thorne, your accounts have been frozen pending a fraud investigation. Please contact your branch..."

I reached into my pocket and found a few crumpled twenties. I tried to check into a cheap motel, but the woman behind the desk recognized me from the news and spat on my shoes. "We don't rent to lying hags. Get out!"

I hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours. My burns were beginning to fester. I felt the fever rising in my blood, a heavy, throbbing heat. I collapsed in an alleyway next to a dumpster, unable to take another step.

Passersby who recognized me didn't offer help. They threw trash. They poured old coffee on my wounds.

I missed the mountains. I missed Arthur, my mentor. But I couldn't leave yet.

Tomorrow was Bennetts birthday.

When he had his hand on my throat, I had felt it. His pulse wasn't just weak anymore. It was chaotic. Shattered.

I needed to see the end.

I dragged myself up, using the brick wall for support. I took one step, then another, before the world turned black and I pitched forward into the darkness.

I woke up to the smell of dried sage and bitter herbs.

I forced my eyes open, my body screaming in protest. Arthur was sitting beside me, his weathered hands carefully applying a poultice to my infected arm.

"Arthur... I have to stay..." I wheezed.

He looked at me with a heart-wrenching pity. "I know, child. You need to see the clock strike midnight."

He didn't get to finish. The door to his small apothecary was kicked open with a violent crash.

A dozen heavy-set men stormed in. They pinned me to the chair. The leader pulled a hunting knife from his belt and, without a word of warning, drove it straight into Arthurs chest.

I let out a guttural scream and tried to lung toward him, but a hand clamped onto my hair and yanked me back. Bennett walked through the door, looking down at me with pure venom.

"I wondered where you were hiding," he said, stepping over Arthurs slumped body. "So, this is the master puppeteer? The one who taught you how to bleed my family dry?"

Bennett ground his heel into the wound in Arthurs chest. Arthur gasped, blood bubbling at his lips.

"Stop it! Let him go!" I sobbed, clawing at the floor. "He saved your life! You wouldn't even be breathing right now if it weren't for him!"

Bennett leaned down, a cruel, twisted smile on his face. "Tell you what. Ill give the old man a chance."

He pulled out his phone and shoved it in my face. "Record a video. Admit youre a fraud. Tell the world you made up the curse to steal my money. Do it, and Ill call an ambulance."

"Morgan, don't..." Arthur shook his head, his eyes clouded with pain.

Bennett didn't hesitate. He pulled the knife out of Arthurs chest and jammed it into the side of his neck, near the artery. A spray of hot, metallic blood hit my face.

"Okay! Okay, I'll do it! Just stop!"

Bennett got his video. He was satisfied. Finally, he allowed his men to haul Arthur toward the hospital.

When we arrived at the ER, a nurse rushed out, shoving a stack of paperwork into my hands. "Hes in critical condition! We need a deposit for the surgery immediately!"

I froze. "My cards... they're frozen. Please, he's dying."

"Move it, honey! If we don't get him into the OR now, hes gone!" the nurse barked.

I turned to Bennett. He was standing by the entrance, Brookes arm draped over his shoulder.

"Bennett, please. You have the money. Pay the deposit. I did what you asked."

He laughed, a hollow, mocking sound. "Oh, you want a favor? Youve been robbing my family for a hundred years, Morgan. A video doesn't settle that debt. Get on your knees. Apologize to me and my ancestors."

I looked at Arthur, who was turning a terrifying shade of gray on the gurney. I didn't care about my pride anymore.

I dropped to the linoleum floor. "Im sorry. I lied to you. Please, save him."

Brooke stepped forward, her voice sweet and poisonous. "An apology isn't enough, sweetie. You need to beg. Properly. Give us a hundred kowtows. Let's see that 'spiritual' devotion."

"You heard her," Bennett said. "One hundred. Or he bleeds out right here."

I slammed my forehead against the hard floor. One. Two.

The skin on my forehead broke. Blood ran into my eyes, blurring my vision. I lost sensation in my limbs. I just kept hitting the floor until I reached a hundred.

I looked up, my head spinning. "There. Now pay. Please."

"Sure," Bennett said with a shrug. "Let me just run home and grab my checkbook. I'll be back."

He turned to leave. I lunged forward, grabbing his ankle. "Youre doing this on purpose! Bennett, hes dying now!"

"Careful, Morgan. Thats not a very grateful tone. Do you want the money or not?"

I let go, my strength failing. "Please... just hurry."

Bennett returned an hour later. He tossed a receipt onto my lap. I scrambled to give it to the nurse, but she just looked at me with a heavy, tired sigh.

"Its too late. He's gone. He went cold ten minutes ago."

The world stopped. I turned to Bennett, my vision tunneling into a red haze. I screamed, throwing a desperate, weak punch at his face. "You murderer! You did it on purpose! Ill kill you!"

Bennett caught my wrist effortlessly. His eyes were cold. "Kill me? You should worry about yourself. Now that youve confessed to being a fraud on video, let's talk about restitution."

He threw a thick stack of invoices at my feet. "My family has supported yours for a century. Since you admitted it was all a scam, you owe us every cent back. With interest."

He waved his phone. "If you don't pay, this video goes to the police. And I won't just stop with you. I'll go after your entire 'clan.' Every single one of them."

I gritted my teeth, my voice a jagged whisper. "Ill pay. Just wait until after your birthday tomorrow. Ill give you everything youre owed."