12: 156: 17: 11: 37

I awoke behind a tree.

The last I remembered was walking along the road with Abby, before feeling a great pain on the back of my head. I checked my watch. It was an odd watch, but it didn’t tell me the time, it told me the time since my birth. My Dad wanted me to work it out. I was going to be the world’s smartest girl. The display said twelve years, a hundred and fifty-six days, seventeen hours, eleven minutes and thirty-seven seconds. That meant it had just gone half past four.

I stepped around the tree and saw that the road had been cut off by yellow crime tape. I felt compelled to take a look, hoping it wasn’t Abby.

I was later told that people don’t normally do this.

Despite nothing being there, I couldn’t really see the body. I was told later that for the ones that look, this is normal. But I could see the feet. I could see the tattered sneakers, and the purple socks. Something niggles at the back of my mind. I look at my feet, and then at my watch. The watch never failed.

12: 156: 17: 11: 37.

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