Existing hurts.
The higher we go, the thinner the air feels, like grief is sucking all the oxygen out of the building.
Jay’s waiting at the door, pale and worn-out, like he hasn’t slept either.I push past him because I can’t stand to see the pity in his eyes, it burns hotter than the bullet wound.
The spare room is small and bare so it’s perfect.
I collapse on the bed, bones giving out like they’ve finally decided they’re done carrying me.The ceiling’s textured with a million little bumps.
I start counting them, because if I stop counting, I’ll think.
If I think, I’ll break.
Through the wall, I hear Nick’s voice, low and tight.
“Don’t let him out of your sight for the next couple of days.Really keep an eye on him,” he says.
“I will,” Jay answers.
Then the door clicks shut.
Hours dragby and I don’t move.
Don’t eat.
Don’t speak.
Jay hovers in the hallway sometimes, debating knocking, but he doesn’t and I’m glad he doesn’t because talking would feel like trying to hold my insides in with bare hands.
The silence is suffocating but at least it’s safe because when I close my eyes, the gunshot is waiting.
Every.
Single.
Time.
It’s on repeat.
Jake falling.
Blood blooming.
My scream shattering my throat.
The smell of gunpowder.
The moment I realized he wasn’t going to get back up.
I open my eyes again, staring at the ceiling like it can keep me anchored but it doesn’t.
“Hey,” Jay calls gently through the door.“I’m running to the store.You need anything?”
My voice won’t work.
“Okay,” he says softly.“I’ll be just ten minutes.Text me if you need something”
The front door closes and the silence rushes back in, drowning everything.
