3:00 am | on hold

neetruof

The rest of the day passed in a blur of heavy silence and stolen thoughts, but there was one that stuck in my mind all throughout.

He must have heard me sneaking out one night, but how long had he known?

A greater part of myself urged me not to jump into conclusions, and that I should go to him and confirm my suspicion. But I couldn't approach my father, not with the tension between us. We both needed time.

And even with the moon hanging up in the sky, I didn't make a movement to leave the house.

What I did instead was draw the curtains back and push the window open, letting the crisp night air fill Kaitlyn's room. I breathed it in and moved towards the open space, tilting my head upwards to gaze upon the endless black sky. The full moon shone in the brightest of whites, and even in the distance, I caught the wink of the stars.

To unplug myself from the world and heal, with nothing but my own thoughts and memories to seek comfort from.

Rowan wasn't beside me, but at that moment, it felt like he was here. Standing just a step away as I rested my arms rest on the windowsill, the fresh air brushing against my cheeks. I let the wind murmur the mysteries of the night in my ear, and I was flying.

Soaring up high in the sky and brushing past the rolling clouds with the breeze blowing through the strands of my hair. It cooled my neck and broke me free from the chains that restrained who I truly was. The person I wanted to become.

All it took was for me to realize my worth, but what was next? Why would I let myself believe that things will get better when I knew it could only lead to regret? Where would this gamble of hope get me? The top or back at the bottom?

Something loud pulled me out of my thoughts, and there were three of them.

The first was a loud thud that shook the floorboard, what followed was the sound of shattering glass, and a hoarse scream of agony. All coming from the other side of the wall; my parents' room. I didn't have time to think.

I was stumbling out of the room the next second, my breathing heavy and everything blurring together into hues of white as I threw myself on the door next to mine and flung it open with all my might. My throat went dry on the image that lay before my eyes.

The first thing I saw was my mother on the floor, then the red staining her nightclothes.

My body froze at the sight of her struggling to catch her breath, how the veins in her neck bulged as she turned to look at me with wide-set eyes. Her hand squeezed her chest as if it was in pain, hacking coughs escaping her lips.

Then my gaze shifted to my father, who was kneeling beside her as he cradled her upper body in his quivering hands, blood stains on his plain blue shirt. I didn't notice the picture frame that lay shattered on the other side of the room.

"Call an ambulance." An unusual scratchy voice left him, and my instincts kicked in.

My senses were heightened as I ran out of the room and rushed to the telephone on the table, pulling the handset out as my fingers smashed on the dial buttons. I could hear my heartbeat pounding loudly in my ear when a voice answered through the line.

'911, what's your emergency?'

There were alarms blaring in my head, a sob threatening to escape my lips as I thought back to what I saw. Everything about it felt like it all came from a dreadful nightmare, but this time it was real.

"I-I think my mother is having a heart attack." It was when the words left my lips that the reality of the situation caught up to me. How could something as serious as this happen so suddenly?

The handset was shaking against my ear as the operator started to ask me more questions and I tried to answer them without breaking down. Every second still counted, even when I didn't want to believe that this was happening.

My chest felt like it was caving from within when the call ended and I placed the phone back on its rightful place. I staggered back inside my parents' room, my legs barely holding me up as I opened my mouth to speak, only for the words to die in my throat.

"I'm here," Father whispered as he held Mother's hand, who was leaning against the nearby wall with a heaving chest. His hair was disheveled as if he ran his fingers through it too many times, the wrinkles on his face more evident as his tears slowly dripped down to his damp shirt. "T-They're coming. Hold on, I promise you'll feel much better soon."

I stayed rooted to the ground and only covered my mouth with my hand, stifling any sound I might make. My mind was telling me that I was invading a private moment, but I couldn't bring myself to leave, not when she was like this.

"I know." A shallow breath left my mother. She tried to smile, only for her to seize her chest as if the small movement hurt. A tear rolled down her cheek, her voice faint. "You've always been here for me, Al. I love you."

My father's lip trembled, and he gripped her hand as if his life depended on it. There was pain in his eyes, but I could see hope brimming in them. "We'll get through this together, don't give up on me."

She answered in a beat. "Never."

Then the blaring sirens came, and it was just then that my father raised his head and looked at me. I didn't have the time to speak when the front door slammed open and a group of paramedics rushed inside the room, bringing a wheeled stretcher with them.

I moved out of the way, shielding my eyes from the blinding lights that bounced off the walls. A woman approached me immediately and gave me a once over, assumably to check whether I was fine.

"I'm okay, I was the one who called." My voice sounded far away as I stared off to my mother being carried away to the ambulance, a valve mask strapped around the bottom part of her face. My father was standing at the doorway, his whole body shaking as another medic asked some questions and tried to calm him down.

I only heard snippets of their conversation:

"... second time it happened... Aspirin... her family..."

A hand landed on my shoulder, and half of my attention was given back to the woman beside me. My mind was reeling and I still couldn't process what just happened in the past flashes.

"We'll do our best," she said, giving me a smile of comfort before leaving the house. The man talking to my father followed her briefly after.

My mother was being carried away to the hospital, and there was nothing I could do.

We were left alone in the wake of fading sirens. The metallic smell of blood tinged the humid air, and I could still hear his scream echoing in the painful silence.

Death was watching.