But I can’t think through the red haze. It’s taken over. I throw the empty drawer onto the rug and wave a hand at the medication I pull doubles just to afford.
“If you don’t want to care, then fine, I won’t either.” I walk back to the door, pretending I can’t hear Ella’s sobs. I can barely breathe through my anger. “Take the medication. Or don’t. Either way, I’m just wasting my fucking time.”
Then I slam the door behind me.
I barely getany sleep despite the exhaustion. It’s a night spent tossing and turning beneath thin blankets in a cold room with a heater I don’t dare turn on.
There’s no realm of possibility that I’d have the luxury of sleep after all the shit I said. I deserve to feel like utter crap. Probably worse because what came out of my mouth was truly unforgivable, and I was the definition of inconsiderate. Whatever I’m going through is absolutely nothing compared to what she is.
The bad week I had wasn’t an excuse for my behavior.
I’ve always had trouble with lashing out. I thought I was better now that I’m not living under the same roof as my parents, but I guess I’m not actually healed.
Sighing, I kick the covers off my legs and slowly pull myself to the edge of the bed. I need to apologize and clear the air. It’s already bad enough that I didn’t say sorry straight away.
My sister has a tender heart, so I know she wouldn’t have taken it too well.
The old apartment floors groan beneath my weight as I creep to her bedroom. She’s usually still asleep at this time, but I don’t want her to spend the entire day thinking that I hate her, since I’ll be at work by the time she wakes up.
I rap my knuckle against the door. “Ella? Are you up?” Taking a deep breath, I push my ego to the side. I’ve never been very good at apologizing. “Look, I shouldn’t have said what I did. I… I didn’t mean it. I was just tired and grumpy and I wasn’t thinking straight.” Silence. My gut churns. “Ella, I’m… Can I come in?”
Slowly, I push the door open and lean against the frame, waiting for her to respond. The dull light of the early dawn trickles in from behind the curtains. It’s still too dark to see more than just the outline of her body beneath the blankets.
“Ella?” I say, and step forward when she doesn’t react.
Nothing.
Something dark twists in my stomach as I cautiously take another step.
“I’m sorry about what I said last night. I really didn’t mean it.”
My heart pounds against my chest when I don’t get so much as a hum of disagreement. My foot catches on something, and it skitters out of the way as I lower myself to the edge of the bed.
I blink against the darkness, willing my vision to adjust. My body trembles as I reach for a shoulder. She’s stiff beneath my touch, and when I nudge her, her entire body seems to move.
Panic rakes its claws down my back. “Ella—Ella, wake up.” My pulse roars in my ears as I pat her cheek.
Still nothing.
Heat pricks my eyes, and I use everything in me to shake her. “No, no, no. Ella, come on. This isn’t fucking funny.”
I stop. Wait.
Wait for what feels like an eternity for any semblance of a reaction. The huff of her breath. The twitch of a muscle. For her to jump up and say, “Got you,” like I did to her when we were kids.
She gives me nothing.
The tears stream down my face as I keep repeating her name, shaking her, slapping her cheek like it might give me what I want.
I hit the light switch. Staring back at me is yellowish-green skin, a line of foam and bile trailing from blue lips.
And for the first time, I notice the sound.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
