Lock Sammy in his crate.
To rise with the morning news and a cold cup of leftover coffee.
Or to sleep off a strawberry vodka fueled hangover until noon.
Unsplash / Eugene Shelestov
The perks of working from home.
The perks of being a writer.
I only use the clock app on myiPhonefor timing my workouts.
I never set an actual alarm, not even as a reminder to pop my birth control.
I can remember on my own.
I have a decent enough memory.
Unsplash / Eugene Shelestov
An alarm flashing 1:16.
Or maybe my clumsy, tipsy fingers set the accidental alarm in between Bud Lights the evening before?
I was ready to shrug it off until I read the words that appeared beneath the numbers.
The label attached to the alarm.
Eat your apple slices.
How would they know I was going to eat at that exact time when I usually skipped lunch altogether?
And it wasnt like the alarm went off at noon, the average time for a snack break.
How the hell was that possible?
I pressedstopto silence the beeps.
A request from my boss about completing a new assignment by the end of the day.
I stayed focused on my writing until 3:04.
Until my first bathroom break.
It sounded slow motion, sped down, like it was recorded by a broken, slurring robot.
After I washed my hands and punched at the screen, I saw the label attached.
It said:Change your tampon.
I said loud enough for my dog to whine through the door.
He hated loud noises.
He barked once in response.
It was set for one minute after the previous one.
Check on your poor puppy to see if hes still breathing.
I bolted from the bathroom, feet squeaking against the tiles as I slid into the next room.
If anyone touched my motherfucking dog…
A sigh sunk from my throat.
I closed my eyes in relief.
Sammy, what is that, baby?
I crouched and he scampered over, tail wagging at record speed.
When I pulled the toy from his mouth, I flung it across the room.
It looked like a severed arm with a bloodied bone poking out from the top.
Not real, of course.
Only a squeak toy.
But not one Id ever bought him.
Oblivious, he scuttled toward the arm to retrieve it, thinking we were playing fetch.
Bite your nails like you always do when youre nervous.
How many of these damn alarms were set?
I tapped on the clock icon to find out.
To pop launch the app holding my alarms.
I scrolled through the list of them hundreds of them each attached to a different message.
The first few contained a list of things that I had already planned on doing.Text your parents.
Lock Sammy in his crate.
No matter how badly I wanted the details, I wanted to read the conclusion first.
If I knew the outcome, maybe I could prevent it.
Okay, perfect, great.
I raked my free hand through my hair, ripping a few knotted clumps out.
Okay, umm, maybe we can just…
My phone froze.
The touch screen stopped working and so did the buttons.
Everything faded to black and then a pop of white.
Signs of the phone restarting.
Before I had the chance to reopen the app, the alarm sounded.
Instead of beeping slow and robotic like before, it sounded small and high pitched.
The blip-blip-blip of a heart monitor.
It said:Change of plans.
After I quieted the beeping, I looked back at the long list of alarms.
An empty, blank screen.
I sat, unmoving, unspeaking, on the floor.
My boss asking for an update on the assignment I was supposed to send in by EOD.
But the second my fingers brushed the plastic, the alarm burst to life.
3:32 PM: Better find something to defend yourself with.
3:33 PM: Find a hiding space.
I shuffled Sammy into my room and twisted the lock.
This is too insane.
3:34 PM: Realize theres nowhere to go.
I heaved the bedroom window open to stare down at the five story drop.
Even if I could make it, I doubt Sammy could.
3:35 PM: Attempt to call the police.
No no no no.
I saw the red flashes in the corner.
Stood frozen as my phone shut down completely.
Not the front door.
I wanted to make it out of my apartment alive.
But the alarm had already told me how my story ended.
