“Beep.” 

 I stood there paralyzed and aghast. Witnessing and experiencing this day, the one I knew was coming,  was like watching a flickering candle finally extinguishing itself, leaving only smoldering echoes of warmth and memories. 

What was I going to do now? She was the only one I had left. I stood and watched in horror as I felt my eyes well up with tears of not shock nor disbelief but just pure pain.  The doctors and nurses rushed to me with fake empathy, telling me how sorry they were for my loss and that everything would be ok. How could that be? I had just lost my grandma, the hero who raised me, my idol, and my best friend. 

Ever since my grandma took me in, I have felt incredibly blessed to have her by my side during endless waves of medical challenges From every minor injury, like when I broke my leg falling down the stairs, to my near-death experience, like when I was hospitalized after getting a tooth pulled, she always stuck by my side.  Without her guidance, I’m petrified of what college would be like without her by my side. She never really wanted me to leave home for whatever reason, even after I received a full ride to the college five minutes away, including room and board.  

I honestly don't even remember how that day ended– I woke up with puffy eyes and a bottle still in my hands. I stumbled down the stairs, my head aching. After making some cereal, even though I had no appetite, I decided to take an excursion to the basement. For some odd reason, I felt a connection with my grandma once I entered the hallowed dusty basement. I only went down to the basement a little other than to store old toys or seasonal decor. I watched the sunlight filter through the clouded windows as it held many old memories. I sat on the stairs, just gazing in senselessness. The grotty brown boxes seemed to call to me. As I approached them, I recalled something odd about how my grandma seemed protective over the basement. Every rare time I took a trip down, she hovered closely. Once I confronted her about it, she quickly ushered me out without explanation.

Since no one was here to stop me anymore, I rumbled through the boxes one by one, only to find nothing.  It seemed odd that she would act suspicious if it were nothing. However, on my way out, I saw something I had never noticed before a small latch on the side of the wall. 

I felt a nervous twinge in the pit of my stomach as I stopped in front of it and bent down to touch the rusty latch. As I slowly slid it open, it screeched and gnashed. Inside was a fair-sized black metal box with a lock on it. I picked up the box and shook it as I heard the flutter of a loose piece of paper. I took it off, and in faint writing, I remarked 9-29-92. Those numbers seemed way too familiar to be a coincidence. I sat in stillness as I recalled that date— my mother and father’s death. As soon as I detected that, a gush of cold raced down my spine. 

I rapidly entered those numbers, and it unlocked the box. I cautiously opened it with trepidation. Inside, I found an old dusty photo torn apart. It was our family photo; however, I was ripped off. I was discombobulated as to why this was done and who did it. I turned the photo around to find a note that declared,” I know it is this day of 3/14/2021. I will depart, yet I will be back soon by your side. This time, it was your fault. You WILL endure the implications of your action, my dear.” This note looked like my grandma's handwriting from when she was much younger. But how did she know when she would pass, and why was it my fault? I flipped around the photo with my parents on it and, to my horror, saw the words, “This time, I ended them and made sure they would never come back. This girl is mine. "I brushed off the crumpled dusty papers to find a folder of my medical papers. I felt a phantom touch grip my shoulder. A flash of white and then a yellow swirled the room. A maniac laughter exploded all around the walls, closing in on me.  The thing my eyes could see was my grandma’s cold stare.