When I finally arrived, I parked haphazardly, barely within the lines. The door swung open easily, and I rushed inside, desperate to find her before it was too late.
I burst into her bedroom, searching frantically for any sign of life. There she lay, a silhouette against the crumpled sheets, still and silent.
“No, please don’t let it be,” I whispered, racing to her side. My throat tightened, panic flooding my veins.
“Lillian! Wake up, come on, I’m here!” I shook her gently, watching her eyes for any flicker of awareness. Her skin felt cold to the touch, the warmth escaping her body like mist on a cold morning.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I shook her again, urgently, but deep down, I knew.
She was gone for good.
A wave of dread crashed over me, consuming my entire being.
“Lillian, please, oh no, please open your eyes.” I could think of nothing else. I could not breathe. Everything became hazy, my vision a blur. Lillian lay there, and I lost hope.
My sister was dead on an ordinary weekday, and it was all my fault.
I sank to my knees, the rough ground scraping against my skin as I felt myself shatter into a million pieces.
My body shook with silent sobs, the sheets twisted in my grip; the scent of lavender, from the fabric softener, barely masking my despair as my face remained buried in them.
Chills coursed through my helpless body as despair enveloped me.
At last, an empty numbness descended. I lay beside my dead sister, the weight of grief crushing me, the passage of time meaningless.
It dawned on me that I needed to call 911. They arrived swiftly, laying her body in a black bag before zipping it shut.
I watched, shattered, as her face disappeared from view, realizing that I would never see her again.
That realization broke me further; I would never share another moment with her, never engage in our small, meaningless chats.
She would forever be reduced to a decaying pile of flesh and bones beneath the earth, forgotten by everyone.
Memories of her flooded back, leaving me breathless. I recalled her joyous laughter, her carefree smile. The lipsthat were now fading would never lift into a bright, beaming grin again. I remembered the days we played outside as children, sharing our secrets under the open sky.
The police spoke to me, their voices laced with sympathy. I heard words like “pills” and “quick,” but I wasn’t truly listening. I sat there, a blanket draped over my shoulders. Paralyzed.
My mind raced, then fell blank. Fury consumed my thoughts, directed at myself for abandoning her. It ignited a blazing path of blame toward my mother and Caiden, erupting like a volcano.
There were too many people to hold accountable, but deep down, I knew the fault lay with me. If only I had reached for the phone in time, if only I could have talked sense into her.
Regret clawed at me, a sickening sensation that scratched at my skin and pounded at my head. I shouldn’t have gone to sleep.
Instead of channeling my guilt and anger inward, I redirected it toward Caiden in that moment.
This had begun with him. I didn’t want to confront the pain and guilt gnawing at me, it was suffocating. Lillian must be avenged.
This was the last straw. My sanity had crumbled into shattered pieces. Emptiness consumed me, my vision clouded with a paralyzing rage. I had overflowed into a raging tidal wave, threatening to flood everyone and everything in my path.
The solitude of my grief morphed into a ferocious fog, wrapping around me like a disoriented fog.
THE PRESENT
AMELIA
25 years old
The thunder tore across the sky like a wounded beast, its deafening roars rippling through the frigid air, each crack a blow to my chest that sent jagged icicles of fear racing through my veins.
