I watch the sunshine on the wall as it fades and then reappears.
It’s been light for maybe half an hour.
BANG. BANG.
Someone is pounding on my door.
“Dee? Dee, if you’re in there, you have to open up,” Anna calls out.
I stay on the floor.
I don’t fucking care.
I can’t say anything.
Because nothing comes out but a muffled gurgle anyway.
“For God’s sake, Dee, open the fucking door. It’s Colt, and he’s in a bad way. The ambulance is nearly here. Dee, Dee, please,” Anna says. “Dee, he’s overdosed. We’ve only just found him, and he doesn’t have a pulse.” I hear her sob.
BANG. BANG.
Where my heart was racing, it has now stopped.
When my heart thuds back into motion, the pain is enough to jolt me upright. I scramble to the door on all fours and reach up to flip the lock. Anna pushes the door open and walks in. Her face is red from crying, and she looks distraught. She puts out her hand, and I take it so she can pull me up and outside.
“Dee, it doesn’t look good,” she advises.
There’s yelling and screaming coming from next door. I hear it as two paramedics run past my door with a stretcher.
Everything flashes before my eyes.
But I can’t comprehend what’s happening.
Anna takes my hand and pulls me down to the penthouse. I can’t even feel myself walking. It’s more like I’m floating. We move into the penthouse, and I see a paramedic pounding on Colt’s chest. He’s pale, really pale, and there’s white foam coming from between his lips. The other paramedic clears Colt’s mouth with his fingers and places a mask over it, pumping air into him. His chest rises and falls, but there’s no movement from Colt.
Am I in a dream?
I have to be because what I’m witnessing right now cannot be happening.
Everyone’s yelling as the paramedics work hard on Colt, but nothing seems to bring him back.
Maybe this is how it was always supposed to end.
Maybe he is better off.
Maybe I’d be better off if I just went with him.
A hand rests on my shoulder, bringing me into the here and now.
Suddenly, all the noise is ringing in my head, and I can’t stand it. I block my ears with my hands, and the only thing I can think of that might drown out the noise is to sing.
So, I scrunch my eyes and sing the first song that comes to mind.
Am I off my rocker to let her go?
Why can’t I tell her that I need her so?
Her hand in mine when we intertwine,
