10 minutes of oxygen remaining. Return to ship is recommended. 
The computer finished its message. The only sound I could hear was my breathing. In and out. In and out. Each breath uses up the quickly depleting oxygen in my tank. Glancing around, I name the stars and constellations I know. I felt my mind drift off. Thinking of all the things I had yet to do. Get a car and learn to drive it or go to college. So many regrets, but nothing could be done about them now. All I could do was sit around and wait for the inevitable moment when my tank would empty of oxygen as well as my lungs. After that my body would gasp and flounder, desperate for more air. I would pass out then. No one knows what comes after. There are of course theories: heaven, hell, or maybe just a void. An abyss of black no way of knowing whether your eyes were open or closed, if you were moving or standing still, dead or alive.  
There was no use worrying about it now though. It’s not like anyone would miss me or anything. I was a nobody, a runaway, and an outcast. The only change would be eight new letters in my profile. They would come right after my name. The glowing green text would read “deceased.” The word seemed so final and cold. Like they were talking about some computer simulation that had ended long ago. I prayed silently that a spaceship would fly out of the inky black and swop in to save me, like a children's story, but there would be no “happily ever after” for me today or ever again.  
I didn’t know how such a simple spacewalk ended so badly. My safety tether snapped, sending me hurling into space behind our ship. On the plus side though, the others would get more food now. The younger kids always needed more. I suppose the older kids do too, but we had learned to suck it up. That was the first thing you learned on the Amerton, how to put on a tough face. If you didn’t have one you would be attacked by the others. It was survival of the fittest on that ship, but what do you expect from a group of kids in a twisted experiment? The scientists had pulled as from the foster system on Earth. Before bringing us to the launch site. We were given no time to say goodbye or pack our things. They claimed we would be home in a few months, and with a pretty sum of money as reimbursement. I never agreed to be part of this warped version of Lord of the Flies, there was no documentation. Looking back I should have known this was a shady operation. Four years later and here I am floating in space facing a prolonged death by suffocation. I suppose that means I was right. 
I could feel the air thinning out already. I was light-headed and nauseous. Even with the trouble I was having breathing I was thankful for the tight cloth binding my chest. I didn’t know if it would make a large difference in how much longer I had, but even if it would take away every minute I had left I would still wear it. Between my binder and suit was my sliver necklace chain. Once upon a time it held a sliver cross pendent. The cross had been taken by my mother. At the same time as she threw me in the system. I wondered how she had left me without a second glance. When I had come out to her, she had screamed. I don’t remember what happened after, but when I awoke, I was surrounded by broken glass and my head pounded. I pleaded with my mother to get treatment, I promised to not tell the doctors what had happened. She refused claiming I deserved the pain, and if it killed me all the better. I don’t know what compelled me to keep the empty chain. It didn’t have any good memories that went with it. It made me think of Sunday mornings spent on my knees, praying that it was just a phase. That I would grow out of it and become the perfect child again, but that’s not how it works. 
I am honestly surprised that I made it this far in life, but as the saying goes “all good things must come to an end.”  
Five minutes of oxygen remaining. Return to ship immediately. 
“I wish I could computer” My words startled me. It wasn’t like the computer would respond. It couldn’t. Besides that, it was wasting precious air. I had spent years working with the ships computer and got to know them inside and out. I had even named them. Perhaps that sounds crazy but living on a small spaceship with no friends gets lonely fast. Besides, the A.I. could talk back, which makes this habit a little more normal. This suit’s computer was Javier. Named for the last computer programmer on the ship. He had been electrocuted last year. Not that years mean much out here. No one else keeps track of the time that I know of but me. It wasn’t like we got holidays off or celebrated birthdays. I guess many found it depressing to think of how long ago we had left Earth. 
Once again, I found myself longing to be on the ship. Romanticizing the white hallways that wound round and round forming a tight spiral. Even my barren quarters seemed like paradise from out here. The painfully bright lights and chilly corridors of what had become a home of sorts. Thinking about it home is the wrong word. It was more a residence, just like my old home had become. An address that I once held warmth and joy. 
Soon enough, the ship would not have enough people to take care of it. I wondered what would happen then. Whether the scientists would trick more naïve children into being test subjects or if they wouldn’t care. Leave the ship to drift between the stars before it burned or split or entered some planet's atmosphere. I don’t know which would be worse. I guess it doesn’t matter though. I will never know. No point getting caught up on it.  
One minute of oxygen remaining. Return to ship immediately officer Arah. 
A small smile graced my lips at that. I forgot that I had reprogrammed the computers to call me that. Originally, they had called me by my last name, the one I no longer use. I don’t need anything tying me to my demon of a mother. This was much preferred to that. 
Thirty seconds of oxygen remaining. Return to ship immediately officer Arah. 
Thirty seconds to live. Not nearly enough time to do any of the things I had wanted to do. Get a tattoo or date someone.  
Fifteen seconds of oxygen remaining. Return to ship immediately Officer Arah. 
All the fear crashed down at once. I was dying. At age 14, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to die in a hospital bed. The whirling of machines fighting to keep my body alive. A new family surrounding me as I comforted them. Not alone in space with a single person to mourn me. Maybe it is better this way no one is hurt. 
Ten seconds of oxygen remaining. Nine seconds of oxygen remaining. Eight seconds of... 
I tuned out the automated voice of the computer. With one thought echoing in my head. I will die on my own terms. With that thought I grabbed the edge of the helmet. Yanking up as hard as I could. 
Officer Arah do not attempt to remove your helmet. You will- 
I pulled again ignoring the message playing as the numbers continued to count down to my demise.  
Three seconds. Two seconds... 
With the last of my energy, I pulled the helmet off. Free at last.