Three

"We are all searching for someone whose demons play well with ours." -Unknown

Brandon

I lay mystery girl on my couch as gently as possible. She passed out in the truck after puking her insides out, but I was honestly just thankful she chose to do so outside of said truck. I was no stranger to puke, so I hoped this doesn't embarrass her too much when she wakes up tomorrow. If she even remembers, that is.

When it happened, I quickly held her hair back when I saw the strands falling right towards her mouth. I was too tired for all of this, especially after a long 12 hour shift and an angry girlfriend at home. But I couldn't have left a young drunk girl alone at 2 in the god damn morning, I couldn't have lived with myself if something happened to her. Plus, I've seen the same girl in the oncology unit every single time I do clinical's up there. That girl in the hospital was an entirely different girl from the one in the parking garage.

Then, while holding her tangled jet-black hair, I began to feel my anger towards her start to melt. Because now she was crying out for her dead mother. Like, screaming, as if she were right in front of her. I run my hand up and down her back, ignoring that the light was now green. I notice she has purple underneath all of her thick hair, and I thought it suited her well. You could only see it if she were to put her hair up.

I sigh at the recent memory, wanting to erase the part of her screaming from my brain. It was etched into me, stuck with me. I felt so bad for her. It reminded me too much of the old me.

I slide my fingers underneath her head to lightly lift it so I could give her a pillow. She stirs in her sleep a bit, and I watch as she lightly takes her full bottom lip in her teeth. I look away after finding myself staring for too long, and grab one of the quilts my mother made for me before she died to place over the girl. She softly moans in her sleep and turns over on her side, pulling the blanket over her like she was at home.

I'm glad she felt safe, even though she got so drunk she probably believed she was at home. The liquor that I had to practically tear from her grip was half full, and judging by her body size I knew she was completely fucked. She was short and had a curvy body. I finally stop looking and sit on the end of the couch beside her feet and pull my phone out of my pocket to see if there was anything from April.

Still nothing, though. I came home to an empty apartment, which was actually a slight relief considering I've been dreading having to explain the whole drunk-girl-I-picked-up-after-work story.

We had a fight before my night shift yesterday. She dropped out of nursing school recently because she said it was taking up way too much of her life. I think she expected me to do the same along with her, but that was the last thing I wanted to do.

We've been dating for almost two years now, I loved her, I love her.. but the last few months have been rough. And me using the word rough is me being really nice. It's been fucking catastrophic.

I toss my phone on the marble coffee table that April bought that I absolutely hated and turned my chin that was resting on the heel of my hand to look down at the green eyed girl lying beside me.

Her sleeping eyes had dark circles resting underneath them, and the corners were crusted and raw from old tears. Yet somehow- I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

I needed to go to sleep...and when I finally did, I dreamt of a girl that was not my own.

Callie

I sip on my coffee and stare blankly at the black computer screen in front of me. I was going to use it to log into Netflix since I don't own an actual TV, but as soon as I went to type in the url the screen turned dark and it died. For some reason that happening made me instantly start crying until all I could do was stare at my reflection in the screen. It's been a couple hours now doing this.

I had to force myself into the shower as soon as I got home. I stunk of booze and sweat, and no amount of scrubbing or soap seemed to wash off the stench. I didn't even bother to look in the mirror, not just because I looked like complete and utter shit, but also because I was afraid I would once again see my mom. My dead mom that was sitting in a dark, cold morgue with a tag wrapped around her toe that I painted purple the day before she died. It was her favorite color. I wonder if they will take off the polish before the funeral..

I contemplated texting Brandon. I wanted to send a simple Thank You, to which he would reply with a You're Welcome, and we would never speak again. And sure, I already thanked him in person a million times, but..well..maybe I was just trying to find an excuse to text him.

He has a girlfriend, which makes me cautious of overstepping.. but I couldn't help but wonder why he would give me his phone number.

I finally close my laptop after almost two hours of staring at my deathly reflection in the screen and pick up my phone. I go to the messaging app and run my finger over his phone number that I already typed into it hours earlier, then trailed down to type a message.

Hi.

I type the word and twirl my thumbs over the keyboard. That's too much. I need to just say thank you once more and move on.

Thank you again, Brandon.

I exhale slowly through my nose as I look over the words, making sure there aren't any punctuation errors.

Jesus, why am I like this?

I huff and press send without another thought. I didn't even tell him it was me, I doubt he even remembered my name. I remembered him saying my name slightly, only because it sounded so perfect falling from his mouth. It was too memorable, he was too memorable.

I remembered his bright eyes and the warmth of his skin against mine in the damning cold of night. I remembered his deep, yet at the same time soft-spoken voice. I remembered the way his cinnamon-mint breath fanned across my face when he had my arm around his shoulder and turned his head to meet my eye contact. And god, when he did, it was like a match was lit inside of me. It had to be the alcohol..

My phone vibrates against the bed sheets, and I take my lower lip in my teeth as I grab it anxiously.

It's no problem, Callie.

My heart swells at the words; He remembered my name.

I put my phone down, but my mind continued to race with thoughts. I wanted to keep texting him, but I definitely didn't want to be annoying. As soon as I pick up my phone to think of something, my phone vibrates against the skin of my hands.

This may have fallen out of your bag.. just got home and found it.

I scrunch my eyebrows worryingly as I press the photo that he attached. It was my mothers charm bracelet.. the one I kept on me at all times.

"Fuck!" I curse, lifting my arm up to reveal my naked wrist. I hadn't even noticed it was gone.. I was too focused on a stupid boy. I was depressed, vulnerable, alone.

No one talks about the days following a death. It's in the silence of my phone every morning when she used to call me. It's in the naked walls that surround me, because she wanted to help me put photos up when she recovered. It's having no one to lean on, because when I wake up in a cold sweat and want to pick up my phone, I cannot call her, for she is a ghost. A body in a morgue, just a few days from being put in the ground.

My stomach drops as I sit there in silence, staring at the charm bracelet resting in his large hand in the photograph. My eyes travel to his long and slender fingers that were touching the charms that meant so much to me.

I can come pick it up as soon as possible.

I press send and grow more anxious by the minute. I wanted that bracelet safe and with me.

I look up from the abyss now, still not seeing the light. I sit and continue to look up, waiting, stuck in the Imperilment that has become me.