Absent

"Absent" by A. L. Mendoza

PROLOGUE

I blink several times to adjust to the brightness. My eyelashes, more than intertwined, feel as if I've forgotten to open my eyes in a long, long time. They're heavy, although I'm not drowsy anymore. Actually, the more colors I can detect, the less I recognize this roof. Where am I? In my room, of course... but why do I have the sensation of something misplaced?

How long was I asleep for? It is first day of vacations, so I shouldn't worry at all about my waking hours, but still... Anxiously, I try to to confirm the date and hour in my phone, but the whole act of trying to raise myself feels more difficult than it should be. My mind is racing. What happened yesterday? Even if it sounds like pure madness, I don't remember anything, expect for yeaterday being the last day at school. How did it end?

I turn my head sideways and...

I find a machine instead of my nightstand. I've seen it before. This is the same one that my parents used to keep my brother alive after his incidents. Is this a joke of his?

'Ashton, mom and dad will punish you for playing around with this.' I loudly say, expecting him to enter to my room immediately. He doesn't. 'Ashton?' There is absolutely no answer. Not a single noise. 'Ashton!'

I intend to stand and search for him, but something holds my arm down. Some cables are connected to it... from the machine. This can't be a prank; they're too well placed. Then, is this for real?

'Ashton!' I scream again, pulling the cables off in a single hit. With my feet I seek my slippers. They're missing. Worse than that, I'm dressed in a hospital gown. 'What?'

The floor is of an untainted white, and somberly cold. The curtains are drawn and all of my possessions are neatly packed away. Most are hidden from view, and I'm absolutely certain it was not me who arranged it that way. Last I remember, the room had looked messier and less... empty. Hesitantly, I walk out, barefoot and shivering. 'Ashton?' I begin to call after turning the door handle and hearing it screech louder than it used to. I approach the rails across the hallway, and peer downstairs, into the living room. All of the furniture has been rearranged. Even the family photos hanging by the stairs aren't the same. I stare at the new ones, puzzled.

Ashton's graduation is in a few months. Why is there of photo of him, dressed in gown and mortarboard, next to my mother, father, Lindsey, and Javier?

I continue looking at each photo. Lindsey's tenth birthday, for which I have the present in my closet, bought weeks ago... Javier's birth-grandmother's sixty-eighth birthday... My father in a meeting with his boss, shaking hands with satisfaction... My mother cutting the ribbon to inaugurate a designer's store... Ashton's cheerful face, with a black-and-white filter and an engraving...

Ashton Peacock. 1999 - 2014

That can't be real. We're in 2013. How could he be... Dead?

'Ashton... Lindsey? Mom! DAD! JA-vi...' I call, breathless. I accelerate my steps but it exhausts me, and with a blurry vision I slow down. Finally, I'm able to say I'm sure of something. I'm alone in a house that has changed in any and every possible aspect.

I remember there's an emergency-only phone in the kitchen drawers. It's got no internet access and an old-tech appearance, but with no knowledge of where my bag is, that dinosaur will have to suffice. I take every step in the spiral stairway with patience, trying to keep my thoughts from divagating too far.

Once I've reached the drawer, I halt and consider the possibility of it not being there. Everything else isn't where I recall it to be, so why should this be any different?