Chapter 3I Can See How Everyone Will Die

On my third day as a delivery driver, I got a strange order. The address was in an upscale neighborhood on the south side of town.

The delivery instructions read, "Please ring the doorbell three times. Do not knock."

So, I rang the bell three times.

The door opened, and a woman in her 40s stepped out. She was wearing a silk robe with a strand of pearls around her neck.

I happened to glance up as she took the order, and the words above her head made me freeze.

"45 years old. Strangled to death by the spouse in two days."

My hand jerked, and I nearly dropped the delivery bag.

The woman looked at me, asking, "Is something wrong?"

"No."

I handed her the food and turned to leave. After just a couple of steps, I stopped.

"Um…"

I looked back. The woman was still standing in the doorway, checking the contents of the bag.

"Is your husband good to you?" I asked.

She looked up, her expression turning wary. "Why are you asking?"

"No reason. Just… be careful."

With that, I got on my scooter and rode away.

…

That night, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, unable to get the woman's face out of my head.

She'd tried to cover a faint bruise on her cheek with foundation, but I'd been close enough to notice it.

…

The next day, I got another order for the same address. It was the same customer.

This time, when the woman opened the door, a fresh cut ran from the edge of her eyebrow to her temple.

The words above her head had changed. It read, "45 years old. Strangled to death by the spouse in one day."

My grip tightened around the bag as I handed her the food. Then, I said, "Ma'am, you should call the police."

"For what?" she asked softly.

"Your husband hit you, didn't he?"

The woman glanced at me before closing the door.

I stayed where I was. A beat later, a man's voice came from inside. "Who was that?"

"The delivery guy," the woman answered.

"Stop ordering takeout. I'll cook for you," he said gently.

I rode to the entrance of the apartment complex and sat there for ten minutes. Then, I pulled out my phone and called 911.

"Hello, there's a domestic violence situation at 14 Fairview Gardens Apt 302, on the south side of town. The woman has visible head injuries."

"Are you calling about yourself?" the dispatcher asked.

"No. I'm the delivery driver. I saw her injuries."

"Thank you. I've got officers on the way to check on that."

I didn't know whether the police could change anything, but the line of text above the woman's head had said "one day". I had to do something.

…

Around noon the next day, I was scrolling through the news when I saw a local news alert.

"Man Arrested on Domestic Violence Charges at Fairview Gardens, Woman Hospitalized."

She hadn't died, so the words above her should've changed.

Still, I couldn't be sure. I couldn't exactly see the tops of their heads in a news report, after all.

But the woman was alive, and that was enough.

That day, I completed eight extra deliveries. It was enough to cover Hailey's expenses for the week.

…

On my 15th day as a delivery driver, John cornered me outside the entrance to Caroline's apartment complex. He stood in front of my scooter with a birdcage in hand.

"Gavin, have you got no shame?" he snapped. "Caroline said you've been asking three thousand dollars a month from her for child support."

"The court ordered it."

John shot back, "Forget the court! You're delivering food for a living. Does it really cost three thousand dollars a month to raise a kid?

"Caroline's pregnant, and Louis' expenses are high. Can't you ask for less?"

I looked at the words above his head. They were still the same.

"62 years old. Carbon monoxide poisoning in two and a half months."

The date was drawing nearer with every passing day.

"Dad!"

Caroline's voice came from behind John. She walked out of the apartment building with a tall, stylish young man.

That was none other than Louis.

It was my first time seeing him. He was dressed head to toe in designer streetwear, with limited-edition sneakers and perfectly styled hair.

The words above Louis' head read, "26 years old. Car accident in four years."

As soon as Caroline saw me, she stopped short. "What are you doing here?"