Alan Grim's day was going poorly.
He struggled to understand half of today's chemistry lecture. Failed to even read the assigned English book when called upon. And his favorite on campus club was closed today because too many members were sick. There wasn't even one member on the board who could open up the gym for him to train on the punching bags.
[trr!] [trr!]
His phone rang.
Looking down at the screen nearly gave him a heart attack.
{Mom}
He picked up the call immediately.
"Mom! What's happening? Are you alright?"
"My! $Aarggh!$! I need you to drive me, your dad's too busy at work today, $%AAAAGGH%$!"
The call immediately dropped.
Alan, thankfully already at his car, immediately hopped in and drove home.
During the drive he muttered under his breath continuously.
"Everything is fine, definitely nothing to stress too much about."
"It's just a little bit early, that's it."
He arrived home to see his mother at the door, struggling to stand.
"Mom!"
He ran up to her, gently but firmly latching on to her.
"I'm getting you into the car, the hospital is only a little while away. Just hang in there!"
Having safely secured his mother, he hopped into the driver's seat and drove off.
"Wait! Did you lock the front door!?"
His mother shouted.
"I did!"
He clenched his teeth, focusing his mind on quickly, and a little less than legally, making it to the hospital.
"Alan holy shit!"
Alan suppressed a full body jerk from the sudden stimuli.
"What mom!" He said as he narrowly passed a green light intersection.
"Who, {urgh}, who taught you how to drive like this?"
He could see the hospital in the distance, taller than its surrounding buildings.
"Who taught the baby to act without thinking!" He scrambled a retort at his weakening mother.
"Ha! {ourgh} Just, just drive. Be nice to your sister, she's not even out yet."
He glanced over to see his mother as pale as paper.
In what felt like an eternity he drove up to the front of the hospital's women's center.
He parked at its front and ran inside.
"MY MOMS GIVING BIRTH!" He shouted into the room before darting back out to his car.
He was halfway through unbuckling his mother when the doors opened again. He waved wildly at the hospital employees looking for him.
In nary a blink he found himself in the waiting room.
His leg shaked uncontrollably as he texted his father.
[Mom's at the hospital, giving birth right now.]
He looked out the window, anxious for his sister's birth. Terrified, that his sickly mother might not be able to handle it. Terrified for his sister who was nearly three weeks early. Scared too, for whatever important day his dad was having.
He watched as the sun went lower and lower, waiting to hear the cry of a new baby.
When the sun neared the buildings he saw his dad's car, a 2011 Honda CR V. Its chassis moved slowly through the evening traffic as it approached the hospital. As it neared the hospital, Alan took note of another car.
A pit formed in his stomach as he saw it lined up with multiple intersections, passing them like the streets were empty. He prayed that this car would have all green lights.
At the final intersection, he watched the light turn red for the speeding car, green for his dad.
"No."
He watched, his eyes suddenly adopting perfect vision as he etched the collision into his vision. The little hope he had was crushed as he saw gore, splattered from the windshield to the street. Like the aftermath of a tank shot the car was blasted back in pieces, crushing pedestrians, blasting the place with car shrapnel.
He couldn't look away.
All of that, even driving safe. Yet without a sound, gone. The only thing left was his ears ringing, his mind fogged like the winter morning drives his father took him on.
"Are you mr. Grim?"
Wrenching himself away from the sight, he eyed the doctor who appeared before him.
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
He really needed some good news.
He found himself numbly walking to his mom. The same woman who raised him. The woman who laughed with him, at him, about him. Who collected stories like his grandfather collected train models.
He almost couldn't bring himself to enter the room. Yet with just a step, just a small gesture, he was in front of his mom.
Her almost peaceful face as she held the stillborn child he would've called sister. Her chest made no movement as she, like a still life portrait, lovingly embraced her child.
He couldn't find it in himself to even clench his teeth.
When he found himself at his front door he couldn't help but laugh. It was ajar, not even closed in the rush to take her to the hospital. He walked in to see his mom's unfinished drink, the cupboards slightly open.
A single crow had found itself inside the house.
He closed the door behind him as he walked to the kitchen, passing by family photos and memorabilia.
He stood in front of the cutting board, the crow right in front of him. It stared straight through him. His hand trembled as he reached for a knife, any knife.
When the knife clattered to the floor he laughed. He let his head drop as he tried to hold himself upright. His body spasmed uncontrollably while he blinked away tears.
He woke at the first crack of dawn, exhaling a defeated breath as he locked the front door behind him.
He needed a run. Something, anything to get his blood moving again.