3:00 PM

In another world, my parents don’t leave me behind. I leave them first.

They aren’t able to escape, but I’m able to. In the dark green cave, there isn’t one speck of light. But the moss still seems to glow from something within. All around us, I can feel it slowly breathing. I press my hand against the wall to move forward and feel it squish underneath my palm. The air is cold and wet inside my lungs.

On the ceiling, there must be a leak somewhere, because water drops and splashes at the very center of our heads, where the skin is exposed. I don’t know how the water always knows where our scalps are in the darkness, but I’m impressed. I don’t quite believe in coincidences, but I do believe in chances. And this tunnel is giving me a chance right now to get out of here forever.

“Hey,” my mother calls softly. “Hey.”

I don’t stop to turn, as it would be meaningless. I keep going.

“Where are you?”

“I’m right here,” I say. “You’re only a few steps behind me, I’m sure. Your voice sounds very close.”

“Honey?” my mother calls. “Are you still there too?”

“I’ll catch up,” my father says, his voice echoing slightly. “I’m right behind you.” “Hey, let’s stop and wait for your father,” my mother says.

But I don’t stop or say anything back to her and keep going, the sound of my feet splashing in a shallow puddle. I almost stumble, but then step down hard, regaining my balance.

“You keep going,” my father says a little louder. “We’ll catch up to you in a second.”

They don’t have to tell me twice, and so I continue what I’ve always been doing. Still, at my ankles, my jeans cling to my legs, and my skin feels itchy. My thighs have also become sore from the hours of walking, and it takes all my focus just to lift one foot up after the other. I can’t imagine talking and walking anymore.

We’ve passed that point in time now.

3:00 AM

At this time, something, if not for a moment, belongs to me. And that’s all that matters. As to what that something is though, I don’t know. But it’s much stronger than the night and even stronger than the coffee I’ve just drank. (An iced cold brew. It’ll hurt your stomach later…)

Perhaps, it is caffeine which I am holding in the palm of my hands, tightly, like a diamond. Even planes and silence can’t get past me at this moment. I hear too much, and therefore, can never sleep through the night. I lean back into my pillow and then sit up, too quickly…

Walking around at night is only something a sick person does, right? I say this to myself the entire time I walk. I do this so that I know that I am self-aware.

The suburbs are very tan brown. I’ve always thought so since I was younger. It reminds me of nostalgia and the feeling of holding your neck tightly when you’re in pain. All the way down the road, there is a corner. And if I squint my eyes, I can see that there is a boy.

“I’m an alien,” the boy says when I get closer.

Okay, I think. Say the kid really was an alien. And say that I was the first person to ever meet an alien on earth. (That we know of…) The responsible thing then to do, would be to hand them over to the authorities, like a lost child. Unless, of course, the alien said they didn’t want to be handed over. And the alien began to talk about world domination or something. Or that there was a mission that only I could help them accomplish or something like that…

“You’re going too fast,” the alien boy says. “Geez, it’s like your mind is going a thousand miles per hour.”

Maybe what I am holding in my hands is the wind.

“The wind doesn’t blow in the middle of the night,” the alien boy says. “You must not know that.”

Or maybe what I am holding onto is actually the time itself.

“That’s right. But only a moment of it. It doesn’t even amount to a second of the time you are holding.”

I don’t have to pursue every thought, I think. I don’t have to pursue every thought. I don’t have to…

“Geez,” he finally says. “Are you always like this? I’m turning this off now. I can’t even have a proper conversation with you…”

The boy reaches up to his head and pulls on a part of his hair. He then shakes his head as though he is a dog. I look down at my hands and then see my fingernails, covered in blood. I pull back my sleeve and see a scab, now opened.

“It’s going to rain tonight,” I say, pulling my sleeve back down.

“I know,” the alien boy says. “So, what are you doing out here, walking around?”

It’s true, I think. I shouldn’t be out like this in my pajamas in the middle of the night. If someone else sees me like this, they might call the police, and that would be stressful…

“I guess it works out though,” the alien boy says. “I was looking for someone like you. Anyways, it’s nice to meet you.”

He extends his arm out to me, his hand limp. I shake his hand lightly with my left hand and then think about how cold his skin feels. At first, I wonder if that’s just how all aliens are, but then think it more likely that he’s been outside for a long time.

“There,” the alien boy says, not letting me reply. “Now that we know each other, it’ll be easier for me to ask you that favor I have. Are you ready to hear it? Okay, here I go…”

The alien boy raises both of his hands in front of him, palms facing upwards.

“I need you to collect some of this rainwater for me tonight,” he says. “What do you think?”

I stand there, looking back and forth between his hands and his face. He is smiling with his eyes. I nod.

“I suppose I can do that…”

“Great!”

The alien boy then turns halfway to start walking in the opposite direction. “I’ll come back next time. Same everything.”

“Oh,” I say, taking a step towards him. “Wait. Is collecting it in a bucket okay?”

“Anything’s fine.”

He waves me off and then puts a hand on his head, smoothing out the tufts of hair that are sticking out. The streetlamps are starting to flicker, and I realize that it’s because it’s getting lighter outside.

The alien boy and my neighborhood street now look pale blue. I wonder where those rain clouds are.

He turns the corner.

3:00 PM

There seems to be no end in sight.

While walking, my feet have seemingly become numb to the motion. Walking for a day straight will do that to you. I start to feel pretty bad, and every once in a while, I strike my head against the wall of the cave in order to feel something. I just don’t want to go insane.

Thud.

My forehead is dripping with sweat. My parents must be miles away from me now, but I’m pretty positive that we’re almost done. My suspicions are confirmed when my head collides into the head of the tunnel, where there are sharp boulders that have fallen right where the outside world should have started.

Thud.

I lay there on the ground a while, my mouth open and panting, as the water from the cave drips down onto me. One of its tears even lands on my tongue, and it’s enough relief for me to sigh and relax finally. I pull my phone from my jacket pocket and find it still at fifty percent. I now feel that all the boredom I’ve endured from not checking it is worth it, just to get even one bar of service to call for help.

“Hello?”

I panic until I hear it finally ringing.

“Hey,” I hear my father call. “Hey.”

I turn around and see him, limping along. Along his back is a large shadow. He is carrying my mother.

“So,” I say. “You finally caught up.”

There is a small click, and then a small breath before the operator begins to speak.

“Where are you?” the voice asks. “Where are you?”

I catch my father’s eye, as he sets my mother’s body down. He then looks up at me, expectantly.

He waits.

3:00 AM

I always wake up at the same time that I was born. It’s been like this ever since I can remember.

Sleeping has always felt like both a blessing and a curse. If I go to sleep, there won’t be anything to be afraid of. But on the other hand, I am always afraid, and so it’s hard for me to actually get to that dreaming land.

In bed, I lay awake and stare into the ceiling, as the alien boy slips in through the window. Our house is only one story.

“I have a small hole in my heart,” I say to the alien boy. “It’s so small, I can barely notice it. But my doctor did once I started having trouble breathing. At first, they checked my lungs, but it was really my heart. They said that it was bad, but if I’ve lived this long without any problems, I don’t know what the big deal is…”

The alien boy is glancing around, as though this information shocks him, and he has no idea what to do with it. I want to let him know it is okay to laugh, and so I laugh. His head snaps to the sound, and he looks at me.

I realize that he is angry.

“It isn’t funny,” the alien boy says. “This is all serious. Everything is.”

It is then that I realize how old the alien is. I feel sorry for him.

“You’re right,” I say. “I shouldn’t joke around like that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he says quickly. “It’s alright.”

In my dreams, nothing is ever really said.

3:00 PM

I don’t know where I am anymore.

“Do you hate us?” my father asks.

He’s in the mood to ask me all these questions, but not in the mood to help me dig. My nails are completely shattered and ripped from my skin as I shove my fingers in between the rocks, trying to push them out of the way. My mother’s body is starting to smell like vanilla.

“I should have never been allowed to become an adult,” my father says. “I’m sure you blame me for lots of things. But you know what? I did my very best. I promise you that, okay?”

He’s talking about the time he once slapped me right across the face. I was around twelve.

“I’m the one who should be crying, though,” my father suddenly says. I wonder how it is that he can believe in anything anymore.

“I want to die,” I say back at him.

“Why?”

“The world just doesn’t feel new anymore,” I say. “It can’t just be me who feels this way.”

“There are so many things you don’t have to think or say at all, though,” my father says. “Isn’t that relieving?”

But I want to say them all.

“Even if other people weren’t happy, I’d still want to be happy,” I say.

“You’ve done a good job up until now,” my father then says. “You’ve worked very hard.”

It’s strange, I think. Why is he saying that? As if that’s going to change anything.

“Progress of society and all that,” I say. “I couldn’t care less. I just want the progression of my own heart. That’s all. I want to be healed.”

But he isn’t listening.

“Hey,” my father says instead, lying down on his back. “When we escape this tunnel, I’ll talk to you a lot. I’ll tell you everything I’ve been feeling, and we’ll understand each other better. I’ll be a healthy person who can talk normally about the things that are hurting me. I’ll make sure of it.”

This tunnel becomes a hole. And that hole is in the center of my chest.

I can feel it. That something or someone has carved it out.

3:00 AM

On the park bench, the air is heavy with water. It seems that all the rain from the clouds has just dropped into the atmosphere and is lightly floating around.

“Imagine you were in a tunnel,” the alien boy says. “And there was no way out. Where would you go?”

“Huh?”

“There’s no way out, and you’re in a tunnel,” he says. “What do you do?”

“Well,” I say. “There’s no way out, right? What else can I do? And what kind of question is that, anyway? It’s kind of harsh.”

“It’s just a hypothetical,” he says. He then laughs.

“Exactly, though, right? Exactly. You wouldn’t do anything about it.”

“You calling me weak?” I say.

He doesn’t laugh or say anything.

“Geez, this is making me feel sick,” I say.

“What is?”

“Talking like this.”

I have to look down at my feet.

“I have such a bad feeling about this,” I say.

“About what?” the alien boy asks. “You can tell me.”

I sigh and then spill over.

“I have beliefs about this world like anybody else,” I say. “There’s nothing wrong with that. But I think my beliefs are wrong. I’m never on my own side, and that makes me mad. I want to believe in myself. In who I am. I get the feeling that it’s the only way I’ll ever get closer to what I really want to believe in. And it’s the only way I can probably understand myself and change.”

The moon is peeking at me through the sky.

“Sometimes I think that the only way I’ll be able to truly connect with other people is by dying,” I say.

The alien boy looks at me for a moment and then takes a sharp breath in. “Are you dying?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“That’s why. I can feel us connecting.”

I laugh. He laughs. I don’t know why. I guess because it’s funny. But I don’t really think it is.

I can’t tell what I’m really thinking. But he leans in and kisses me.

I don’t move.

3:00 PM

It’s funny how the news wants to interview me. I think it is. And the fact that they think I am going to die.

“And what is your name, again?” they ask.

I think about how long it has been since someone has actually called me by my name. “So,” the interviewer says. “How’s it going in there?”

“I’m dying here.”

“Really?”

I switch the phone to my other ear. In the background, I can hear what sounds like the shuffling of papers, and the squeak of a chair being turned.

“In that case,” they say. “Any last words?”

I think for a moment. Breathing in. Breathing out.

There are only words, I think.

3:00 AM

I sometimes think that I would prefer it if the world wasn’t real.

On the radio, there is a story about two people who are stuck inside of a tunnel. They interview the man, and his voice snaps me out of my numbness.

“My son,” the voice says. “He’s dead. It’s just me and my wife now.”

The alien boy looks over at me from the bed. His arm is hanging off the edge of the pillow.

“Hey,” he starts quietly, like the rolling of sudden thunderclouds. “I want to tell you something.”

I turn over to look at him while lying on the dusty carpet. How long has it been since I’ve vacuumed? Every second, I feel anxious, and glance over at the door just in case my parents barge in.

“Yeah?”

The alien boy puts a hand over his chest and then stares straight at me.

“You know…” he starts. “About your heart. How’s it been lately?”

I hold his gaze.

“I’ve been fine. Why?”

“Because I gave you a new one,” the alien boy says. “While you were sleeping.”

I find myself looking away before he can finish his sentence, and my heart skips a beat. I feel my stomach drop. Oh, I think.

“Could rainwater be used to build an organ?” he says. “When you told me about your heart, the idea just came to me…”

“So, what are you saying?”

I stay very still. Seeing becomes hard.

“I’m saying that instead of just saying that’s just the way people are, shouldn’t we try and surpass being that?” the alien boy continues. “Isn’t that what life is all about?”

I stare at him, and his face becomes so different I can’t recognize it. Suddenly, my heart feels as though it’s gotten a little lighter, and the meanings of things make a little more sense.

“This can’t be real…” I hear myself say.

“This is as real as it gets,” he says.

I feel my heart beating inside my chest. I wonder if this is how a healthy heart feels. The alien boy reaches out towards me and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“This is what I came down to earth for,” he says quietly. “I just wanted to heal you.”

In the quietness of his words, the rain outside is still tapping on the house.

“Don’t stop trying to reach us,” the man says through the radio speakers.

The sound of the man’s voice then fizzles out like a bomb.

3:00 PM

Even sensations like the wind feel far away.

In the darkness, I can feel that my parent’s bodies are gone and melted. Myself, included. I don’t know why, but I can still feel my lungs moving, and yet I’m not unable to keep up with my breath. They’re not expanding large enough to what they need to be.

I lay down, and then feel one small burst of energy. I use that energy to produce tears.

Geez, I think. If this was how it was going to be, then I shouldn’t have ever imagined such sad things. But this was what I wanted. Why do I think only things that end are beautiful? Who taught me such a thing? No one should have. No one should have, and yet still…

Even if there was the distant sound of someone digging, or even if someone was calling my name, or even if I was just able to escape this cave without my parents, there must be some place where that isn’t the case. My parents…maybe they’re becoming more honest and smiling somewhere. Even if it was without me. I’d like to believe that.

There’s this feeling I’m feeling now. It must be elation. But I still must be a little sad. When these people reach me and pull me out of here, I’ll have to realize everything. I’ll have to believe in myself, and that’s a hard thing to do. Ask anyone. I’m sure at least that’s true…

I always forget and then remember. That I don’t love the world in spite of it not being real. I love it because of that very reason.

In that case, it’s alright if I don’t have anything to hold in my hands.

I guess this is how it ends, I think. I close my hands and then open them. Like a butterfly.

I think that I can let the night wind go now.