"Your Time"

Death in its very essence is one of the most terrifying things we will be forced to face in our lives. It doesn't matter how good or evil of a person you are, death comes for us all. But knowing when you're going to die makes the moment all the more scarier.

Everyone in our country have taken part in something nearly ten years ago that monitored your vital signs, as well as random outside acting forces that would predict your exact moment of death. Some people have refused to take part in it while others use it like some kind of super power to stop bad things from happening. There are a ton of skeptics out there that think it's some kind of party trick created by the government to leave people living in isolation in fear that something bad will happen to them.

No matter what you believe, the results are always the same. The program has a 99% accuracy rate. If it tells you when you die, no matter what, you will die at that time. Some people have outsmarted the system enough to allow them to cheat death, but there's an entire movie series on why that is never a great idea. Not that it actually happens to survivors, they're just good movies.

But the death prediction program has me worried for, you guessed it, my life. It's late at night, I had just turned off my bed side lamp. I was beyond tired from the long day at work, sore all over my body. I'd finally gotten comfortable and was about to drift to sleep. That was until I heard glass shattering downstairs.

I sat straight up and looked to my phone. I dialed 9-1-1 and told the person on the line that someone had just broken in. I'd heard glass shatter and footsteps tapping quietly at a slow pace downstairs. The woman on the phone told me to turn on my "Life" app to see how much time I had left.

This was a standard procedure. They had a system in place where they wouldn't declare it an emergency if the "Life" app said you had several weeks or longer left. If it said you had a few hours or even minutes left, they'd rush them out to your house, police and all. Unfortunately, I was one of the latter. My time said seven minutes. My heart stopped when I said it. I was beyond terrified.

The lady on the phone advised me to find a safe place to hide and to not make a sound until the police arrive. I hung up and silently made my way to the closet on the other side of the room.

Not even a minute later, I heard the sound of footsteps slamming against the staircase as the intruder made their way up. I checked my time. four minutes left. I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks. I squeezed my fists, silently begging them to hurry. The intruder finally made their way up the stairs. Three minutes.

The footsteps grew fainter as the intruder must've made their way to the guest bedroom across the hall. The person sounded disgruntled when he searched and found nothing. I could tell from the low mumbling that it was a man. Two minutes. Hurry! I begged.

I heard the footsteps leaving the guest bedroom, slamming the door. He made his way to the bathroom. One and a half minutes. He came out nearly as soon as he went inside, disappointment in his voice. One minute.

There's no greater fear than knowing you're about to die. You can see your death before you, you know how soon it's coming, yet you're powerless to stop it. I was scared and defenseless. Thirty seconds and not a police siren to be heard. My heart was racing and in terror, I let out a silent gasp as the killer was standing right in front of the closet door I was hiding behind. Five seconds.

The door swung open and he swung his axe at me, cutting my head clean off. I was disappointed I'd never get to see my time hit zero. Instead the last thing I saw was the killer walking away, swinging his axe in a cheerful way, while saying in a sing-song voice, "Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock."