Through Her Lives

Morgandy/Dale

The days were still slow as Morgandy spent them obsessing over her inability to find him. She needed something else to occupy her with while she tried to find a solution. She had grabbed her acoustic guitar from the back of her wardrobe and walked to the music room that was nestled between classrooms. It had been ages since she had played.

As she sat down in the middle of the room surrounded by empty chairs she strummed out the first few cords idly, and then muscle memory took over before she could even think. It was the song that constantly played through out her lives that she'd adapted to guitar years ago.

Her black stiletto boots tapped out the beat as she quietly hummed. The room had morphed into the forest outside the school grounds and she was playing under the strangling fig tree. The forest thick with fog and mystery, damp with dew from the night, void of life captured her. Taking her into another world away from hers, taking her to the swirls of  black and colour fighting against each other. Telling a story of the woman and man against each other, of horrors no one knew. She built up to a high, the guitar getting louder and louder, her eyes closed as if she was in a trance. In her mind she watched as they fought, the song mirroring the sound of fighting. It kept building and there it finished. She strummed the final note. The song didn't have a happy ending, or even a sad one. It stopped abruptly just like her life often did. 

She sat back in the chair, sighing and rubbing her forehead as she placed the guitar beside her, remembering only now how emotionally draining the song was. Morgandy had always found it had the ability to transport her. 

Looking around she took in the musical instruments that littered the room.  When she looked towards the door she saw Annett, standing there staring at her. Before Morgandy could speak Annett turned quickly and scurried off down the hall. Morgandy sighed and stood up, grabbing her guitar and vowing to put it back at the back of the wardrobe to stop her from reminiscing. 

--

Dale had never known his father. He had died before his birth. Just before he had been born, truthfully, his birthday was also the anniversary of his father's death.

He had spent years wondering if his father had brought the good side out of his mother because when he was born he hadn't seen it. Through his life he never celebrated his birthday, it was always his father's death. He blamed his father for dying on his birthday and for leaving him to deal with his mother who had never had a stable day in his life. He spent hours of his childhood standing on the cliff his father's ashes had been thrown off, yelling, screaming and throwing rocks at the ocean. It had never been fair. 

He remembered those years as he watched his mother move around the kitchen with purpose. She never slept at his apartment but was always there when he woke up and when he came home. It was a new feeling for him to see her like this, he wanted to believe she had her life together for the first time. 

She'd married a man with money who he was yet to meet. Not that he particularly wanted to after the trail of men he had seen his mother leave behind her and the trail of men he'd had to make his mother run from. 

Dale was happy for her, but he was waiting for something to happen, he felt like he was back standing on that cliff with one foot over the edge. He was waiting for his mother to fall off the wagon and for him to have to pick up the pieces, he was waiting for his normal life to come back.

Finishing his breakfast Dale shoved on his sneakers and walked out, waving bye to his mother.

Feet pounding the pavement he ran through the outskirts of London, not sure where he would end up. Running wasn't so much as an activity to give him time to think but more an activity that stoped him from thinking. It cleared his head. Being so focused stopped majority of thoughts from invading his mind.

His mobile started ringing loudly, breaking his concentration. He opened it with a quick flick, not checking caller ID.

"Dale speaking, what's up?" His gruff voice demanded. His arms shined with sweat, a few beads also dropping from his forehead.

"You're needed at the station, now. There's a house on fire down Queens Bridge way. Where are you?" The voice on the end answered his gruff demand coolly, used to Dale's bluntness by now. He looked up to see where he was. Only noticing the slight thickness of the air and drifting smell of smoke. Well, he was near the house on fire.

"I'm right there, get the boys to bring my gear." He said starting to run faster than before in the direction of the smoke that was polluting the air. The closer he got the thicker it became and the harder it became to breathe. He saw the flicking tongue of orange and yellow flames before he saw the house. The fire must have started in the front and the back wasn't yet engulfed. People were gathering outside, watching it burn and he ran over to them.

"Is there anyone inside?" He said to the crowd of faces, eyes darting from person to person. None of them seemed to know, they all shrugged their shoulders uncomfortably. They either didn't care or didn't want to be involved.

He ran to the back of the house, yelling out to anyone that could be inside. Coughing slightly, he didn't think to wait until the rest of his crew got there with the proper equipment and breathing apparatus. Going into the small garden shed nearby he quickly grabbed a rag and held it over his mouth. The smoke was so thick it would kill any person inside before the fire did. He tried the back door, it was locked. He rammed against it hoping to break the lock with his sheer weight and force. It didn't budge, he needed more force and was about to take a run up when he saw the window. The fire was moving further down the house and he knew he didn't have much time. Bringing his arms down to give him more power he swung his leg high at the window, careful not to put his leg through the shattered glass. The window smashed easily, leaving large jagged shards of glass in the frame. He wrapped his hand thickly with the rag, banging it against the shards to knock them out of place.

Hoisting himself through the window he looked around the room quickly, not seeing anybody he walked through the door and into the room across the hall yelling out through the rag that he had since put against his mouth again. He saw a girl lying on the ground, unconscious most likely from the smoke. Her chest was rising and falling so Dale knew she was still alive. Grabbing her and hoisting her over his should he walked quickly into the room he first entered and climbed through the window. He heard a siren wail, the closer it got the louder people shouted. He put the girl on the grass as she coughed and spluttered awakening now she was out of the smoke and her lungs could fill with oxygenated air.

He yelled loudly for oxygen as the rescues came around the house, watching the girl cough and splutter more violently, her whole body shaking. There was nothing he could do until they supplied the oxygen but he soothed her, hoping to calm her down as she felt like she was drowning internally in smoke. 

She was gasping for breath. Her eyes widened with panic, her hand gripping his arm. He looked down at her, just as her grip on him started to fade and the light went slowly out of her eyes. She was severely hypoxic and the longer it lasted the more brain damage it would do and the less chance he would have of keeping her alive. Dale yelled louder than before as he watched her go into respiratory arrest shortly followed by cardiac arrest. He checked for a carotid pulse as EMT ran to his aid and compressions started. 

Her body moved limply as they worked harder to bring life back into her empty shell of a body. Dale stepped back as his crew administered adrenaline, her heart was asytole with no electrical beat. A tear slid down his cheek as he watched, already knowing the outcome and knowing this girl was probably only 17. It seemed like hours later that they pronounced the girl dead. He never even heard her name.

He stood up watching as her parents ran out of a car desperate to see if their daughter was okay, only to find her body being covered for discretion. Their daughter gone, he turned away, unable to see their raw emotion. It never got easier. 

A hand appeared on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze as he was about to walk away. He looked up into the friendly face of his co-worker.

"We can't win them all Dale." He said before letting go and walking away. Turning back in the direction he had come from he watched as the coroner slowly pulled into the driveway. Their black van the symbol of death, looking at it something slowly clicked in Dale's brain.

A morgue is a symbol of death.