Around me, the church melts. But there aren't many clocks here. It's not like that painting. My memory melts. Wooden Jesus melts. Melting martyr, melting Messiah. Arms fall limply from the cross.

            My memory is melting. It was twisted to begin with. The ceiling parts, and the walls drip down to nothing. The coffin melts open, revealing an empty inside. Was this a party or a funeral?

            My eyes are eclipsed by the shadow of nothingness. I am alone in the nothing. Hunter. I close my eyes. I close myself. Out of limbic limbo.

            She screams again, "Hunter, nooo! Why?"

            This won't be easy. Five won't be easy. Five whole acts of selflessness. I'm Hunter, not some good Samaritan. Won't be easy.

            Eyelids rise like garage doors. My gaze drives out, to run things over. I am in a moving vehicle. There's a paramedic on one side, Laura on the other.

            They've sent me back.

            I'm not sure if this is real either, though. It's probably a hypothetical. A 'what if'. What if we give Hunter another chance, eh? Satan, Buddha, Jesus and Vishnu are probably sitting on a couch watching this little scene together, right now, on their big-screen high-definition television. I bet Jesus secretly wishes he was playing Xbox instead. This won't be easy for him to watch.

            "I'm sorry," I say. And then, I continue lying, "It was a mistake."

            "Damn right!" Laura says.

            She's skinny again. Then I remember. It wasn't scissors. It wasn't a coat hanger, either. It wasn't even a key, as fun as that might have been for me. I convinced her to go to that clinic, didn't I?

            Nope.

            Mom is sitting beside her, in the back of this forsaken ambulance. And in her arms, there's her grandson. She looks at me, denial of all I've done in her tired eyes, "It's a boy, Hunter."

            My eyes roll back into my head. I faint then and there. I wish I was dead again. Five good deeds. Does changing a diaper count? How about helping the Sandersons, next door, Mom? They always wanted a fuckin' baby! Better yet, you always wanted another baby, 'cause we all know you screwed it up with me!

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