tuesday

Part 2

"It's not my blood," I said. She didn't seem to hear me and continued cleaning and disinfecting. "It's not my—"

"I know, honey." The nurse said. "I still need to make sure you're good. You could have been trampled by all those students." Did she mean as I lay sprawled on the floor in the pool of her blood? As everybody there stepped over her, stepped over me?

I flinched when I heard another shot. But no, it was just car doors slamming closed. My parents were a little away, talking to a big group of parents. They all looked angry. None of them looked scared or sad until they remembered their almost grown kids were clinging onto their arms tightly.

Where were Rylee's parents? They weren't here, of course they weren't. All those times Rylee made a comment on her parents being absent, she was right. But then I saw a couple on the side, sitting on the end of the ambulance like I was. They looked shocked. Confused. Like their little girl couldn't have been shot and bled out on the school floor just an hour ago.

I stood as the nurse held my arm, helping me. I shook myself away from her, my eyes on her parents. My legs were wobbly as I walked towards them. My brother seemed to see me and his eyes widened and he rushed to me like he didn't want me talking to them.

"You're Rylee's parents, aren't you?" I asked, my voice cracking. My brother reached me, almost breathless. He watched quietly, as if waiting for something he knew was going to come. They looked up at me, their eyes red. Her mother nodded slowly and her father held his wife's hand tighter. "Respectfully, screw you."

My brother grabbed my arm, prepared for this. "Sorry for your loss." He said quickly before dragging me away.

"I needed to do that." I told him.

"I know, Arlea." He paused. "That's why I didn't stop you."

I sat in the backseat of my car, watching the road move slowly. There was press surrounding us, taking photos, videoing themselves in front of us. "Just drive over them," My father muttered to my mother, who was driving. She gave him a look, the 'our kids are right behind you' look, and he rolled his eyes. "Just joking."

He wasn't.

We made it home without a single paparazzi question answered, because 'you don't have to say anything to those desperate people, Arlea'. We all filled into the kitchen, either sitting on the bar stools or cutting an apple or looking at me quietly. Looking at the strange clothes on my body that weren't mine, because my uniform was stained with blood, her blood, and was thrown in some bin somewhere. I stood, the stool dragging across the floor loudly. It sounded like a gunshot. "I'm showering."

The water was cold. I didn't like showering with cold water, I hated it, but it felt appropriate for the situation.

The clothes that weren't mine were on the floor of the bathroom in a pile. I stared at them as the water flowed down my face, into my eyes. Another gunshot rang out but no, it was just Theo throwing his shoes onto his floor, like he did when he was angry. When I got angry I wouldn't yell, I would get quiet and state whatever I was thinking in a calm, cool manner that usually annoyed people but helped me stay in control. When Rylee got angry she'd avoid people, she'd roll her eyes at whatever they'd say, she'd ignore them.

"I miss her." I whispered. I spit out the water that got into my mouth and turned off the shower. I wrapped myself in a towel. I let myself slide against the wall and sat in the shower, on the floor in a pool of blood. No, water, it was just water.

Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed, my chest shaking. It sounded like I was choking. My mother's footsteps were loud as she ran across the hall, opening the bathroom door and running to me. She sat with me, holding me tight, listening to me cry, stroking my wet hair. My father was outside, looking at us quietly, and I knew that Theo was still in his room but listening to us. "I miss her." I cried. "So much."