When the Lights Go Out {complete first draft}

Day Three - Please Don't Let Me Go

This Friday should be a Monday

 

I died there. It sounded mad; I knew it. That’s why I didn’t say it out loud. I wanted too, more than anything. Imogen was standing in front of me, looking confused. I felt sorry for her because she didn’t realise what was going on, but I was also jealous of her because of that. It was weird, being at Imogen’s house, because it wasn’t Vincent’s house. If I was running out of time, I needed to sped as much time with all the people that I loved as much as I could.

                  “Well,” Imogen said, pulling me from my thoughts. “What’s your reason?”

                  I smiled timidly. I didn’t want her to be cross. Vincent had their family house all to himself tonight, Imogen’s aunt was also out for the night, and she had the choice to stay at her home, or come back here, where she gets her own space. Whatever she does, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go back to Vincent’s house. Sure, I should go and enjoy myself, but after earlier, I couldn’t. That funny feeling I had that I was slipping away and being drawn to something else – some other world – I couldn’t just go out and enjoy myself. I needed to find my family and my friends and live a little, before it was too late. And partying, and getting drunk, was not the way.

                  Maybe this was my second chance, a second chance to live. I’d put everything off when I was alive; I didn’t think I had enough time to do that again.

                  I could feel Imogen’s intimidating stare burning me, and I looked away, ashamed that I couldn’t talk to her about this. “I don’t feel right.”

                  “You looked fine at school, and when you won your meet. You looked really happy when you spoke to that bloke.”

                  That bloke, I thought, offered me an opportunity of a lifetime but I can’t take it because I’m stuck. Stuck here. Stuck on what’s going on. Stuck on what to do. “I just don’t want to go.”

                  Imogen cleared her throat. “Did you fight with Vincent? You guys were late today. Is something wrong?”

                  Lot’s of things were wrong, I wanted to scream. “Nothing is wrong,” I said calm and collectedly. Vincent and I are about the only thing right at the moment in my life. He loved me, and I loved him. Simple. There was nothing complicated about us, and I wished everything else could just be that simple.

                  Turning her attention back to the mirror, Imogen applied a fresh coat of mascara, blinking her thick, long lashes as she stared in concentration. “And?”

                  “And Vincent and I are fine. More than fine, actually. I couldn’t live without him.” I can’t live with him, either, which is the sad thing. I glanced around Imogen’s room. Her clothes were scattered everywhere and CD’s were chucked over her desk. But for some reason, I can’t figure out if her room looked like this before or not. I was forgetting, and I couldn’t try hard enough to remember.

                  I was at Imogen’s house, just like I was the day I died, but Kendal wasn’t here. I had spoken to her, after my meet, and told her to go home with mom – invite George over for tea. I wanted them to have a great time, and not go to the party. I hoped they’d watch a movie and curl up to each other trying to sort out their problems. I didn’t want her to go, I didn’t want anything to happen to her.