A Cruel Compromise | A short story written by Zara Clickz

Hey Everyone! I really love writing, especially story-writing. In my free-time I love drafting out new ideas for narratives. However, this time I had to go a little out of my comfort zone by writing a Mystery/Thriller. So here it is, enjoy! Oh and just a side note, I was all ready to publish this post until I realized I didn't even have a main picture for this post. I really struggled to find pictures I've taken that depict my story. Finally, I didn't find that picture from my personal pictures but from my Mom's (@petite_mom) instagram! So go follow her by simply clicking on this lovely collage of her wonderful photography!

A Cruel Compromise - Zara Clickz

I knew that day would come. I just didn’t know it’d be so soon. The deal had been made, whether it had been hasty or not was nothing of contemplation. Each day I trembled as I carved a mark into the headboard of my bed, counting down the days till my doom. It was a mistake, of course, I know that now. But it’s too late. He doesn’t care about the regrets, the mistakes, the pain. It all goes against the one thing he devotes his being to. Agony.

I still had some time before the dreaded hour arrived. I stared at the clock with all my intensity, expecting that maybe if I was vigorous enough I could slow down the ticking of the aged clock. I was too frightened to acknowledge that the clock’s age did not keep it from counting down the seconds till my fate.

I couldn’t stand being in the same room as any clock. I rushed to the bathroom locking myself in, afraid that if I kept it unlocked, time would slither in. I peered at my face in my oval-shaped mirror. The mirror may have been tiny but not enough that I couldn’t see the ghostly shade my face had turned. The paleness of my face only highlighted the dark bags under my eyes, indicating the sleepless nights I’ve had. The thought of this day is what had agitated me all those nights. No more sleepless nights for me. The thought popped into my head, however I was unsure whether to be glad or distressed. I quickly splashed cold water onto my face and scrubbed it with the bar of soap kept on the edge of the porcelain sink. But as the soap slipped from my wet hands, it only reminded me of my life slipping away from me and the clock counting down till that time.

I fumbled with the bathroom lock until I had pushed myself out, not even bothering to dry my drenched face. I slipped into some slippers not caring enough about what the harsh and merciless winter day would do to my feet. I ran out my front door and aggressively clicked at the elevator button till it opened up. But I wasn’t patient enough, I needed some fresh air and I needed it then. My mood was changing violently rapid now and my heart pumped hard against my chest. The staircase I was about to race down was now invited by my slow light steps. I couldn’t run, I needed a break. I needed some time to collect myself. I gripped the railing tight, marching down every step at a moderate pace. A staircase to heaven, I thought. But that’s not where I’m headed. The place was quite the opposite, it was a place of suffering. Or my new home.

As soon as I walked down the last step, I hurried out the doors taking a deep breath. I was greeted by an icy breath down my lungs, but it didn’t bother me. It made me feel more alive. Not that I would know how that feels like after… -wards. I paced towards the park and the friendliness of nature comforted me. I leaned back against a tree, observing all that I could see. Opposite me lay two. He leaned against the tree while she leaned on his shoulder. They smiled lovingly at one another. Looking at this sort of thing may not be aggravating for many but I’m not a part of them. I felt my eyes sting, welcoming a tear that I held back. I sprinted out of the park, not even stopping as I passed my house.

This is what had started this mess. I couldn’t go back, the memories were flooding in. All those days I had stopped myself from remembering but at that moment remembering was all I could do. Despite that, those recollections could not slow me down but instead further quickened me. For a moment my heart skipped a beat for I had tripped over a pothole. I lay at the pavement, my knee bleeding. I couldn’t help it, tears streamed down my cheeks. I didn’t dare move, only to clutch my knee in hopes of stopping the burning pain. I wept my heart out. This was a huge mistake, I had earned nothing from this bargain. Everything had gone wrong and now as I had approached my final minutes I hadn’t even taken the time to savour them and had instead listened to the ticking of clocks, locked myself in the toilet, reminded myself of what I had lost and even hurt myself. I looked around for help but I was on an empty street, with only one house behind me. I turned around but as soon as I had glanced at the dark house I knew it was a mistake, for my time was up. He had finally arrived. He didn’t say a word but threw me a malicious grin and picked me up heading for the house. Before I entered the door leading to my eternal misery, I took my first and last glance at the side of the door where the house number was written in bold. 666.