Homecoming (Lesbian)

FINAL CHAPTER PART 1

Alright, guys. This is it. The holy-crap-the-end-is-here. Hope you like it.

I don't believe in those things, but Faye said she 'felt something was wrong'. So she called me. When I didn't pick up the third time, she figured it was just a mile away from her house to mine, so she could walk. As she approached my home, a feeling of uncertainty set on her chest, making her breathing a little difficult. She became uneasy and her heart began beating faster for no apparent reason.

She knocked on the door and waited for my dad to open up. He was surprised when he did.

"Faye?"

"Hello, Mr. Brenan, is Riley home? I keep calling her but she won't pick up. I'm a bit worried."

"She's upstairs. What do you mean worried?"

"It's nothing. Don't worry. I'll go check on her."

Faye went up the steps with the weight on her chest getting bigger. She knocked on the door and said, "Ry, It's me. Open up."

Nothing. Not a sound came from inside that room. Faye tried again, and when the room stayed in perpetual silence, Faye tried the doorknob. Maybe I'd left without anyone noticing, maybe I was listening to music... But when she couldn't twist the knob, her heart stopped. The third time. She didn't knock. She slammed her hand against the wooden door.

"Riley, open the door!" Her screams became louder, the louder she slammed the door. "Open the fucking door! Riley!"

Hearing the noise, my mom and dad came upstairs asking what was happening, when Faye explained she couldn't hear anything inside and that the room was locked, they knocked.

"Riley, what are you doing? Open the door," my dad demanded.

But again, they couldn't hear anything, and suddenly, they became as nervous as Faye. My dad punched the door with the side of his hand demanding me to open up. The bangs could be heard all throughout the house.

When they were convinced that something was wrong, my dad took a few steps back, and lunched himself at the door, breaking the lockset.

I don't think they were prepared for what they'd find. Their minds were in high alert, yes, but they didn't have the time, nor the desire to imagine something actually bad had happened to me. But it had, long before that night, that night just happened to be the last night I would try to push those feelings away.

As they walked into the room, they found me on the floor, next to a pool of my own vomit, with a bottle of rum in my hand. Faye was the first one to notice that I wasn't just passed out because I was drunk. On the bed, two empty jars lay. Jars that she knew should not be even close to empty, because she had always made sure I had my pills.

She knew what I'd done.

"No! no, no, no, please, no," she muttered, kneeling next to me. "Riley, wake up. Riley, baby, come on, wake up!"

She placed her index and middle finger on my carotid to see if I still had a pulse.

"Call an ambulance!" she yelled.

My mom didn't react immediately, but after my dad repeated the order, she ran downstairs to call 911. Faye and my dad turned me around. Faye put her fingers inside my mouth to force me to vomit. I was so gone I gaged, but couldn't puke.

"Come on, baby, you gotta throw up. Please, please, don't do this to me, please."

My dad and Faye managed to get me to throw up once, but of course, that wouldn't be enough to take me back. The ambulance arrived a few minutes later. My mom and dad jumped inside and Faye went back to her home to pick up the car and go to the hospital, too. She decided not to tell her mom anything. 'She just swallowed a lot of pills with alcohol' was not something she was ready to say out loud.