Defector

Time.

Some say it's an illusion while others religiously gaze in wonder at their walls, wrists, appliances, the sky for the answer to how much of it is left in their day. Some, given their circumstances, may be questioning more how much time they have left before their life expires and they just become a distant memory for those around them. He swallowed hard as the amount of time left for him was dwindling and he knew this. He had two options: make a clean getaway or save his best friend whom remained unconscious by his feet.

He hesitated knowing if he ran he would regret this for the rest of his life, but if he saved him he wouldn't have a life to look back on knowing he made the right choice. The building was coming down, smoke was entering his lungs at a rapid rate, flames were scattering quickly around him, and the air around him was becoming scarce.

Leave him.

His cowardly side was screaming, no, begging him to flee. It would be so easy to let the flames take his friend. He was bleeding out, anyway. If he saved him, would he even survive? Would it be for nothing?

Part of the ceiling collapsed directly next to him. He involuntarily reacted, reaching down to drag his friend's limp body away from the flames and toward the exit which wasn't completely covered in the warm, dancing light. Maybe they could both make it. He looked up and saw his other friend diving back into the building to help him. His heart racing with hope, but lungs filling with smoke which he was positive was slowing him down and killing him. Coughing was the only thing his body could focus on to expel the toxins quickly filling his lungs. He dropped his unconscious friend and allowed the mobile one to finish this job.

"Let's move it!" His friend screamed not giving up on their wounded companion whom had been the mediator between the two for the past few years. All he could do was shake his head.
He wasn't going to make it.

Their friendship was never going to be the same and just like him, it couldn't be saved. He was kidding himself thinking things would heal over time. He fucked up and as the flames around him started licking his heels, he allowed fear and regret to wash over him. He glanced up and saw both his friends escape from the building. He fell to his knees knowing this was it for him. His once close friend made an effort to come back for him, but was stopped by the entrance being blocked by outrageous flames. All his companion could do was watch from a distance as he was attacked by the fire and poisonous air.

He didn't have the breath to scream. He accepted his painful reward for being an asshole to those closest to him. He was going to leave his best friend who took a bullet for him not even five minutes prior to this exact moment. He distanced himself from the other friend after a girl and arguement came between them. Upon reflection, it seemed childish and petty now. This was a lifelong friendship which would never be fixed and he was the cause of the rift. He wanted to take it all back, apologize, piece it all back together.

But this was an apology that would never be delivered.

His skin hurt, but it was the lack of oxygen in his aching lungs and brain which caused his body to shut down.

Time's up.