There are ways of dying that do not end with a funeral. Types of deaths you can't see, feel or smell. Because death, just like love, has a mind of its own and some things can't be prevented.
What started as an innocent high school quest in search o...
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"That's for Roger," Brad whispers into my ear and I feel the blade twist in my flesh.
I gasp, more so because of the twirl movement than out of pain, the nausea crawling up my throat. My body is on fire and I'm not fully grasping what just happened, not fully feeling the pain, either, but then he twists the knife the other way, pulling his head away a little and staring directly into my eyes. "And that," he says, "is for being an asshole and sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. Feels great to play a hero, doesn't it?"
There's blood whooshing loudly inside my head, so I'm not sure how I can hear him so clearly. He's smiling like a sicko, not really waiting for my answer before he jerks his hand away abruptly –mercilessly plucking the knife out of my flesh or muscle—as he pushes off the floor. He's towering over me and I want to tell him something—anything—but I can't get the words out.
"Hope you enjoyed it while it lasted," is the last thing he says before he rushes out the still-open door, taking the knife with him.
I'm scared to look down, I don't want to see the blood pouring out of the stab wounds, soaking my shirt through and through, so I keep my eyes in front of me, focusing on Aspen instead.
"Collin," she's already on her way towards me, not fully crawling but not fully going on all-fours either as she keeps one of her hands pressed against her nose to stop the blood but not really succeeding at it, and I want to meet her in the middle but I can't force my body to move for some reason.
It feels like an eternity has gone by until I feel her beside me, her hands clutching at my shoulders, a fearful expression that I've never seen on her before all over her face. "We have to call you an ambulance." Her voice shakes, the blood from her nose dripping across her lips and down her chin now that she's not blocking it with her fingers as she starts to paw through the pockets of my jacket.
"I don't have my phone on me." She starts to sob, "Where's your phone?"
Right there, in my pocket. I try to tell her, even though my lips don't move.
"Where's your phone, Collin?" she sob-shrieks now, still desperately searching for the device.
I take deep breath, gritting my teeth. "It's . . . it's . . . in my . . . pocket."
"It's not," she shakes her head in a frenzy, not looking at anything but her hands turning out my pockets. "It's not in here. I don't know how to— I don't know how to stop the bleeding."
"It has to be." I struggle out, somehow managing to move my own hands toward the pockets, despite how much effort it takes. "It was here . . . a second ago."
I know for a fact I had my phone on me when I decided to follow her over here all the way from Timothy's house. There's no way it isn't there somewhere. It's just not possible.
"We need to call you an ambulance," I hear her repeat again faintly through the increasing whitling in my head but I can't focus on the words properly because my entire focus is on the fact that my phone isn't anywhere to be found and the panic is fully settling in now.
The adrenaline is slowly wearing off and by each second that passes, I feel more and more of my remaining energy leave my body, making me sluggish and damn near incapable of thinking of a solution.
"I'll be right back. Just. . . don't move, okay?" Aspen's full on crying now as she pushes off the floor and staggers toward the doorframe, almost tripping over the threshold in the process.
I don't know where she's going. She disappears before I get to tell her anything in response, although I'm not so sure I'd be capable of forming something coherent if I were to open my mouth.
Finally, I dare to peak down at my abdomen but I regret it immediately. There's a huge crimson splotch staining my shirt and it only seems to be spreading wider because in those few seconds that I keep my gaze fixed on it, the red liquid starts soaking through the top of my jeans as well.
My stomach lurches and I tear my eyes away just in time to see Aspen crouching down beside me again. "The landline's not working," she chokes out. "I don't know how that's possible but it's not working."
What do you mean? I want to ask her. And what does it mean for me? But part of me already knows and fears hearing those dreadful words, to be slapped with that harsh dose of reality.
"I'm so-sorry," she hiccups, clutching the hem of my shirt with a vice grip, as if that could somehow stop the bleeding. "This is all my fault. I'm so sorry, Collin."
Maybe it's the amount of blood I've already lost – because it seems to be all over us now, all over the goddamn floor, soaking us through and through— but I feel the need to contradict that statement. She might be right, or she might be wrong. It doesn't really feel like it matters. I know how it feels to feel guilty and I don't want her to feel that way.
Mustering all the strength possible, I bring my hand to her face, splaying my palm and fingers across her cheek. "It's not your fault, Aspen." I need to let her off the hook, even if this is the last thing I'll do because the fear etched onto her face is killing me. "It's not your fault, okay? I'll be okay."
It's probably a big fat lie and we both know it. Still, I repeat it over and over, attempting to drown out her "I'm sorry" loop as she clutches me even tighter, not wanting to let go.
I want to tell her I love her. Not because I feel the life slowly draining out of me, or because I might never get to tell her again. But because for the first time, I really feel those words. For the first time, I feel all the emotions I have for her and I recognize the love. I think she knows though, even without me having to say it out loud and confirm it. I can feel her telling me "I love you" back through the way she touches the side of my face with her hands and presses her forehead against mine. I can feel the "I love you" through her pained breathing and waterfall of our mingling tears. In her lips pressing softly against mine, even when I'm not able to reciprocate, the coppery taste of her blood filling my mouth.
I can feel the love pour out of her body into mine and then from mine to hers. Over and over and over again.
Until the very second when everything turns pitch black and I fall into depths that I've tried to reach before willingly –back when I didn't appreciate myself or the gift of life on its own—only this time, I wish for nothing but one last redemption.
One last fucking redo.
a/n: it's a TRIPLE update so go read the next chapter as well guys!!! this is my favorite segment of this story because there's a HUGE HUGE SURPRISE COMING!!! (please keep in mind i love you teehee)
