Chapter 2: The Curse Strikes Again

I didn't have an answer. All I knew was that I was tired. I was tired of living my life in fear, being alone, and being cursed. I finished my beer and went to bed, hoping that tomorrow would be different.

The next day, I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. I groggily answered it, expecting it to be a telemarketer or someone trying to sell me something.

"Hello?" I said, my voice scratchy.

"Hey, it's me, Sarah," the voice on the other end said. Sarah was a woman who worked at the hospital where I was treated after the truck accident. We had struck up a conversation in the waiting room, and she had given me her number.

"Oh, hey, Sarah. What's up?" I said, trying to sound more awake than I was.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to grab lunch today. I have some free time, and I thought it would be nice to catch up."

I was taken aback. No one had asked me to lunch in years. "Um, sure, that sounds great," I said, my heart racing.

I arrived at the restaurant and scanned the crowd for Sarah. It had been a few days since we had seen each other, and I couldn't quite remember what she looked like. But then I saw her, sitting at a booth in the back, waving at me.

I walked over to her, and we hugged. "It's so good to see you," she said, smiling.

"You too," I replied, feeling a little awkward.

We sat down, and Sarah started telling me about her life. She had gotten married but was now divorced. She worked at the hospital during the day and volunteered at a homeless shelter at night. I was impressed. She had a fulfilling life, and it made me feel like I wasn't doing enough with mine.

I was in the middle of telling her about my job at the library when I heard a loud crash. I turned around and saw a car had crashed through the front of the restaurant. Glass shattered everywhere, and people started screaming.

Sarah and I stood up, trying to get out of the way, but then the car hit a support beam, and the ceiling started to collapse. We were trapped.

I could hear Sarah hyperventilating beside me, and I tried to calm her down. "It's going to be okay," I said, even though I wasn't sure it would be.

We waited, trapped under the rubble, for what felt like hours. Finally, the rescue team arrived and started pulling people out. Sarah was one of the first to go, and I watched as they carried her out on a stretcher.

I was next, but as they were pulling me out, I heard one of the rescue workers say, "This one's dead."

I knew he was talking about me. I felt a sharp pain in my chest, and I knew I was dying.

But then, suddenly, everything went black, and I woke up in a hospital bed. My chest hurt, but I was alive. Sarah was sitting in a chair next to me, looking relieved.

"You scared me," she said, tears in her eyes. "I thought you were dead."

I tried to smile, but it hurt too much. "I'm sorry," I said. I was surprised that she was even here, but from what I could tell, she was alright.

I, on the other hand, was going to be in this bed for a few more days. The doctor said that the rebar that stabbed into my chest just barely missed my lung and heart. He said I was lucky, but I didn't know about that.

Sarah stayed with me for a few more hours, but she was distant. I could tell she was still shaken up from the accident. When she left, she gave me a quick hug and said she would call me later.

But she never did. I tried calling her a few times, but she never answered. I knew what had happened. The accident had scared her off. She didn't want to be with someone who was always in danger.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but I wasn't surprised. The curse had struck again.

A week passed by, and I was just getting home from the hospital after yet another check-up, feeling exhausted and drained. As I walked through the door of my apartment, I let out a heavy sigh at the sight of the cluttered mess that greeted me. This place was my only haven, but most of the time, it felt more like a prison. I couldn't escape the constant feeling of anxiety and unease that seemed to linger in the air, no matter how much I tried to clean or organize.

Without wasting any more time, I started putting away the dishes that were left in the sink, my mind still racing with thoughts of my latest medical results. The uncertainty of my health was always at the forefront of my mind, and it made it hard to focus on anything else. But as I finished cleaning up, I decided to take a break and grabbed a beer before settling down on the couch.

I turned on the television, flipping through channels aimlessly before settling on some mindless action movie. It was just what I needed after the week that I had. The fast-paced, adrenaline-fueled scenes on the screen took my mind off of everything else, at least for a little while.

But just as I was starting to relax, there was another knock on the door, louder this time. My heart rate spiked, and I immediately tensed up. Who could be knocking on my door at this time of night? My mind raced with all sorts of possibilities, most of them not good.

I made my way to the door, cautiously peeking through the peephole to see who was outside. There was a man standing there, tall and imposing, dressed in a black suit and sunglasses. I couldn't see his face, but his demeanor was enough to make me wary.

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