The Wind Doesn't Talk Back

The Edge

Avery didn't leave. Instead, he pulled a chair to the corner of the room, and sat there, still silent. The room's walls were a shade of green that Avery assumed was supposed to feel inviting, but it was still a hospital room, and the strange smells and sounds, both inside the room and outside of the room, were always there to remind whoever occupied it.

Ashley fell asleep, but Avery stayed awake. He wondered where his father had been for the past day. He usually stopped by the room. It wasn't like it would be hard for him, given that he works in the same hospital his sister was being treated at.

Avery knew that he was sleep deprived, but he still couldn't bring himself to sleep for more than a few hours, no way he was going home. The fear that he'd come back and this bed would be empty scared him too much.

A few hours after Avery had thought about it, his father walked into the room. He sat in another chair, and the room was still silent. Avery's father observed him from across the room though.

"When was the last time you slept," His dad asked quietly.

"Today, in the cafeteria."

"Avery, you really need to go home."

Avery was silent again. He couldn't go home, because the house would be empty. His sister wouldn't be there, and it would be silent.

"Avery?"

Avery looked up at his father. He was still silent.

"You look terrible," His father mentioned.

"Thanks, dad. I know," Avery replied.

"You need to sleep. In an actual bed." His father insisted.

"I can't leave."

"Avery," His father started but he stopped.

"What?" Avery asked.

"Nevermind."

Avery stayed awake all night. When the sun came back up, Avery walked around and found himself on the roof of the hospital. The building wasn't too tall, but looking over the edge was still alarming. The wind was cold, and he wasn't wearing warm clothes, but it felt exhilarating to Avery.

Avery stayed up there for a while. He stood there, just feeling the cold air on his skin. He heard a door open behind him. But he didn't turn around.

"It's strange, isn't it," A girl asked behind him.

Avery still hadn't turned around. "Yeah, I guess."

She moved so she was standing next to him. "I recognize you."

"What?"

"I mean, I've seen you here before. A long time ago."

Avery froze.

"What's your name," The girl asked.

"Avery Jordan. Yours?"

"Emory Steele."

"What're you doing here, Emory?"

"I'll only tell you if you tell me what you're doing here," Emory countered.

"You first," Avery insisted.

"I wish I knew what I was still doing here. I'll get back to you on that," Emory says, "I don't know how long I've actually been here."

"My mother died here three years ago. Now this place is threatening to take my younger sister too," Avery said, looking over the edge of the building again.

"You keep looking over that edge a lot. A little dangerous, isn't it?"

"That's kind of the point, Emory. I don't know what it is about being up here, but everything feels... clean." As Avery spoke, he looked over the edge again. He'd never go over, because then he'd never know if his sister would get out of that bed.

"What did you mean, 'You don't know how long you've been here'?"

"I mean, I've been hiding here. Finding whatever excuse I can to stay, because when I went back, everyone looked at me differently. He was sick, and they couldn't change it. He's been... out for months. But they all think that he'll wake up," Emory spoke quietly, but the wind carried her voice well, and Avery heard her clearly.

"He?"

"Step-brother. I mean, he's just about two years older than me, but he's been in my life since I was... five, maybe six. I don't remember."

Avery was quiet for a second. They both were. Avery turned so that he was facing her. She had long red hair, green eyes, and tanned skin. Avery thought he might have recognized her too, but he didn't think too much about it.

Emory walked away, and he heard the door to the roof shut.

He was alone in the world again. He looked over the edge one last time, then walked back to the room where his sister was sleeping.