The Mix Up (Ashley Purdy Love Story)

Discouraged One

This is a really deep, sad, and maybe trigger warning chapter.

Gone were the words of love and fondness, and in their place was the sense of death and grief. I couldn't focus on anything, everything was mute and all I could see was red. Red everywhere. I didn't know where it began and where it stopped; it was on the walls in the shape of handprints and on the tile in puddles. So much came out of her.

So. Much.

"Alex!" The scream was a ring in my ears, and it wasn't until much later that I realized it was me who was screaming her name.

It was me falling to my knees in her pool of blood, my hands scrambling to stop the bleeding, and it was me who screamed and begged for help until my voice was hoarse and I had no idea how long I had been there. Her black hair looked vibrant against the red and her skin was so pale, so cold, and I knew in the back of my mind that it was too late. I had been too late.

I don't know who found us. Faintly, I felt hands grabbing at my sides and pulling me far away from Alex. Her eyelids were practically transparent and I hoped against all odds that they would open and stare at me, but they remained closed and I was left to fall into my own hole of despair.

Everything was blurry and colorless. It was like looking through an unfocused camera lense, being the only invisible person as the vultures flocked around her dying body. I was watching a movie, watching as a girl's life came crumbling down as she watched her best friend die of her own hands.

Later, when the police asked what had happened, I would tell them in a dull voice that I had just returned from my boyfriend's house in LA.

I had been excited to see my friends after being separated from them for so long. Cassandra had told me she was leaving for a book signing two hours before I was scheduled to return home and she had left Alex home alone; supposedly she had been acting better. I hadn't thought anything of it, Cassandra was smart and wouldn't leave Alex alone if she truly believed it was a danger.

"I miss you already." Ashley whined over the phone as I climbed out of the taxi, phone pressed against my ear and left hand outstretched with money for the cab driver.

"It's only been two hours, Ash." I laughed and unlocked my front door.

"Feels like an eternity." He grumbled in a low voice.

"As much as I would love to listen to you talk about how much you miss me, I'm home now and I want to talk to Alex. I'll call you later, kay?" I promised, placing my keys on the kitchen counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.

"I'm holding you to that. Bye." He said his good-bye awkwardly, like he was withholding from saying something, but I thought nothing of it because the strange silence in the house had me worried.


"Yeah, bye." I muttered and effectively hung up, my eyes scanning across the house.

Nothing was out of the ordinary. The TV was left on mute, Kim Kardashian's face on the screen as she cried about something. A blanket had been tossed on the floor, a lump beneath it, and when I picked it up I was greeted with the sight of shattered glass. I frowned and picked up the pieces, realizing it was glass from a picture frame, the picture buried beneath the glass. It was a picture of Cassandra, Alex, and me from almost seven months ago. We were smiling brightly, arms slung over each other's shoulders, and drenched in paint.

Why was it broken? What happened here?

"Alex?" I called out, setting the pieces back down and heading further into the house. My heart raced when I received no answer. "Al, you here?"

The guest bathroom's light was on with the door closed partially. I pushed it open with a sense of dread, and I had a right to. Slumped against the wall was Alex. Her head lagged to the side, her mouth parted, and blood surrounding her. The wall was smeared with bloody hand marks and blood pulled at her sides.

It was at this time things became a blur. The last thing I vividly remember was grabbing a rag and pressing it against her left wrist where a jagged cut ran up to her forearm. Her right wrist had the same cut and I felt like there weren't enough rags in the world to stop the bleeding.

When I came to, I was sitting in a plastic chair by myself. A cop was standing across from me, his hands resting on his belt and a somber expression on his face. I felt like fainting when his eyes flicked towards me and there was nothing but sorrow in his eyes.

Please, anything but this.

He didn't try to speak to me until a doctor came into the room. It was silent and all I could hear the clock ticking as the duo made their way towards me.

"I'm sorry to tell you-" Tick, tock, tick, tock. "That your friend didn't make it-" Tick, tock, tick, tock. "Ms. Scott? Can you hear-" Tick, tock, tick, tock. "Nurse! I need a nurse!"

I was falling and there was no one to catch me.