Heart-Shattered

Heart-Shattered: Number Thirteen

When a heart breaks, no it don't break even.

What am I gonna do when the best part of me was always you?

And what am I gonna say when I'm all choked up and you're okay.

I'm falling to pieces.

I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing....

---Breakeven, The Script

Number thirteen:

Plague

It's 5:14 exactly as I write this, and I've been awake since 5:00 sharp, which was precisely when the telephone began to ring.

Of course, I suspected something awful, like a relative had died or something horrible had happened.

But it was her. It was Rosalie.

I didn't know that for a few minutes, I sat up, awakened by panic for a while as my dad murmured into the phone outside my door.

I tried to hear everything he said but instead heard nothing.

I just heard a blurred mumbling.

Finally I dared to open the door where my mom was standing, looking worried.

"Who is that?" I asked hoarsely.

"It's Rosalie," she replied. And in that moment I thought I might throw up.

"What?"

"She's probably just drunk, you can go back to bed."

"There's no way I'll be able to..." My face was pale and suddenly the December air felt a whole lot colder than before.

I can hear my brother on the phone with her now, at 5:20.

What could she possibly want from him?

What's worse is that I have no idea what is going on. I doubt my parents will tell me in the morning.

What's worse is, after I was sent back to bed by my mom, I started having this breakdown.

I just started thinking too much about how last year, today, I would have been getting up early and driving to the church to decorate it, so that tomorrow my brother could marry the devil.

I just started crying.

It wasn't a very long or loud cry, because I'm done now. It's just sort of a silent release of pain.

But I'm still really worried.

He's still on the phone.

It shouldn't be taking this long.

End.