Paper Wings and Missing Things

Part 11

Sirens wailed as the dark street lit up blue and red. Anna's parents were standing outside, stiff and upright, and she was sitting on the driveway, finally slipping into tears. The dark street was awake with emergency vehicles, but instead of a police car and a man in handcuffs, there was an ambulance and a shadowy body being wheeled into the back.

"Attempted suicide," she heard a hushed voice say. "Overdose."

"Will he...live?" her father managed, so unlike his normal joking tone.

In the frenzy of movement, it seemed like there was a chance he might. Anna watched, her head against the garage door, and tried for the millionth time to control her breathing. Everything was out of focus, and the image of the dark room and unconscious figure was burned into her mind.

"In an hour, he would've..." the woman said, her voice trailing off. Anna's parents were still silent, her mother white and shaking, her father squeezing her hand so hard his knuckles popped.

"We never thought..."

"It's fortunate we got to him in time..."

The doors slammed shut, and the engine revved up. "Someone should go with him," her mother gasped, looking at the back of the ambulance. "He doesn't have any family."

The woman gestured toward the vehicle. In a moment, her parents were getting in, leaving the quiet neighborhood behind. Anna was too weak to move, and it seemed in the chaos she was forgotten.

As the car started to pull away, she was jerked into motion. Running forward, she called, "Wait! Please."

It stopped, and the door opened. "Please, let me come," she whispered, focusing on the door handle opposite her. "Please."

Wordlessly, they nodded. Anna staggered into the back of the car and fumbled with the buckle. The car sped away, leaving her house—Jonas' house—behind.

"Anna...it's a good thing you were there." Mom's voice was distant, yet vaguely reassuring.

For a moment, she froze, afraid that now, at last, the questions would come. Why were you there? She had broken into a stranger's house at night—even if the door had been unlocked—and pried into his personal belongings. Maybe they would arrest her.

Then a large, comfortingly familiar hand grabbed hers and squeezed tight. Instinctively, she squeezed back, feeling a wordless gratitude for her father's presence. Her face turned to the window, she succumbed to the tears rolling down her cheeks.

It was going to be the longest night of her life.