7 Minutes Left -- 7:00|Part 1

Hey reader! 7 Minutes Left is a novel that consists of 7 chapters, each highlighting a different memory of Maddie's. Since each chapter is so long, they'll be split into parts in order to make editing easier. Side note, the chapters start at 7:00 and count down from there, so this is the first chapter of the book, but since it's counting down it's formatted as 7:00. 

Thanks for understanding!

7:00

My eyes widened to the sound of ringing bells. Bells? My head hurt. What happened last night? My memory was erased by the chaos of the End of Senior Year party. I hadn’t even remembered getting home.

When my eyes cleared up, I noticed that my bedspread had changed, along with my pillow. And walls. And desk. My decorations, the pictures, the posters. It was all taken down and changed, replaced by flowers, stuffed animals, and pink. So much pink.

I instinctively got up and started walking to the wardrobe to find an outfit. I felt strangely out of place, and uncomfortable too. Something wasn’t right. What happened to my room?

My memory felt fragile. All I could remember was driving to the party. I’d gone with Sarah against my will, knowing that I’d most likely regret taking her there later on. Parties were never my first choice on a Friday night, another thing that set Sarah and me apart.

It was a night of firsts, all of us allowed one more day of being a kid before facing the lives we’d have ahead of us. Even though I hadn’t wanted to be there in the first place, I’d distracted myself by trying to have a good time, but my memory was blanking. What happened?

Small hands reached out in front of me and opened the closet. The nails were sparkly pink. Before I could register my small, child-like hands, I caught sight of the inside of my closet. My clothes had changed too. Shock flooded into my head, but like second nature, I was still reaching for clothes.

My head was spinning. This felt like some kind of alternate dimension where everything was wrong. The furniture was big and my hands were small. Where was I?

I picked up a pair of pink plaid sweats, softer than silk, and a matching pajama shirt. My hands moved on their own, as if they were possessed, grabbing the clothes and pulling them on.

My body was on autopilot, dressing itself while I just… watched from the inside. I wasn’t in control of my actions anymore – it was all just happening right in front of my eyes. These clothes weren’t my clothes – any of them. They had unicorns and princesses and tiaras on them. They were practically clothes for toddlers.

I felt myself run to the bedroom door and throw it open, giddiness clouding my confused head. Why did I feel so bubbly? And why was I running? As I made my way through the hall, I suddenly stopped at the bathroom and glanced at myself in the mirror. I stared back at myself, but my reflection was – altered. It was still Maddie, but it wasn’t me. I wasn’t this Maddie.

The Maddie staring back at me was a seven-year-old, pink pajama wearing, always excited Maddie. I didn’t understand what was happening, all I knew was that this wasn’t me – not exactly.

The girl in the mirror smiled, and after a second, I realized I wasn’t looking at her – I was her. I tried to gasp, to scream, to know I was here, in control, and knew what was going on, but the words were stuck in my head. Breathless, I decided to give up on calling out and watch and listen instead. The confusion still hurt my head, but listening is what I did best. It’s something I knew I still had control of.

I felt my hands – her hands – reach into the bathroom drawer and take out a small, pink elastic. She took all the hair she could manage to grab with her tiny hands and brought it back behind her ears. She sectioned it into three and did the worst braid I’d ever seen. Afterwards, Maddie took her front strands out and roughed her hair a little. Once satisfied, she smiled to herself, grinning with all the teeth she had.

Maddie grabbed a bottle of perfume labeled “Beach Nights” and sprayed way too much on. I could smell it so vividly. It took me back to this day. I only ever used perfume on “special days,” and this day was starting to feel a little more familiar the longer it went on. The bells, the perfume, the pink plaid outfit – it was all lining up.

That’s when I saw it. As Maddie walked out of the bathroom and into the small living room, a Christmas tree was near the firehouse. Presents were surrounding it, stockings were hung up, and the smell of breakfast casserole flooded the kitchen.

It was Christmas morning.

It was all coming back – why this day felt so weird. I’d already lived this day. Once. Christmas 2014. It was the most memorable Christmas that I’d ever had.

The worst Christmas I’d ever had.

“Mads! Come get some casserole before it gets cold!” Mom was smiling. She never smiled like that anymore. That giddy feeling returned as Maddie raced to the table, determined to get the seat closest to Mom’s Christmas casserole.

While running over, I felt Maddie getting lifted off of the ground and onto some heavy and broad shoulders.

It was Dad.

Dad.

My heart stopped. The air left me completely.

This wasn’t real.

It was just a dream.

It was just a dream.

Realization slapped me in the face. He doesn’t know yet. I tried to get through to him, to give him a message. I didn't want to see my family hurt. Not again. Not again. Not again. Yet no matter how loud I tried to be, I stayed helplessly quiet. That trapped, claustrophobic feeling came back as I struggled to say something – anything.

“Daddy!” Maddie squealed, pulling at his ears from his shoulders. He put Maddie down and straightened his glasses again.

“Merry Christmas Kiddo.” She bounced on her toes, dopamine coursing through us. I felt it. A smile crept onto her face. Despite the lovely Christmas morning we’d be having, it didn’t change the result coming at the end of the day. Even with Maddie this excited, it didn’t hide the sinking feeling I felt at the bottom of my stomach.

I wanted to scream, but seven-year-old Maddie just giggled, completely unaware that I was inside her head. It was like rewatching a movie I couldn’t pause, couldn’t draw my eyes away from.

Only this movie was my life.

I suddenly wondered if maybe I had gone back through time – meant to stop this moment, to change the course of history because something had gone seriously wrong from it.

But what could I do?

“Something smells delicious in here,” Dad said, hugging Mom from behind.

“It should. This is my second attempt. The first one is sitting in the trash.”

“My favorite little chef.” He leaned down and kissed her. He liked to call her his “little chef,” but it was only partly accurate. She was barely five feet tall hence the “little,” but Mom was one of the worst cooks ever.

I held my breath from inside the head of Maddie. It was strange seeing this from my parents – after everything that’s happened. I wanted it back, these moments. Today was the last day my parents were ever like this again. It couldn’t last though.