37
Getting pushed and shoved, dragged and dumped somewhere - anywhere - has near blinding uncertainty as drowning.
I gasp, stuttering mindless incoherence, putting in my best struggle to breathe, to stay on my feet and to not bite down on my tongue.
As soon as I'm out of the clutches of the security and the cold night air makes the drops of perspiration crawling down from behind my ear sting against my skin, I encounter the idea of grabbing my phone from my back pocket.
I hit dial on Anastasia's number, fearing absolutely everything.
I expected it to ring and go to voicemail. I expected it to not ring at all.
I did not expect Mr. Collins to pick and say, "What did you do? You can't come in anymore."
"What happened to her? Why was she not there?" I ask before the long pull from the middle of my forehead to the end of my spine can split me open.
"She's in the ICU, Brooklyn. She had an accident."
I fail to say anything. I couldn't say anything.
"She fell from her bed."
"How!" I shout. It hurts my ears.
"She tried to walk off. We don't know why or how. The nurse said she heard her call for someone and when a huge crash. She was bleeding out of her head. They say the damage is intensive," he says with a mechanical calm.
I notice it. He knows I noticed it.
"How are you so calm about it?"
He sighs. "Brooklyn. She is in pain. I can feel it. She is in a lot of pain."
A/N: I wrote this on a train to Shimla in the two days that I spent on it.
Shimla is beautiful. But the train ride was deadly.
Picture inserted above.
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Till Next Time | completed | currently under re-edit
Teen Fiction#1 on Paralysis. #9 on Suicide Awareness #13 on Bullying Awareness. #19 on Anxiety Disorder. #22 on Wattpad India Brooklyn Baxter is rich. The world is his oyster but he is trapped inside the shells of his own mind. But rich kids do not get sad. Aft...
