The Ways in Which I Die (COMPLETED)

CHAPTER 20: "I WISH IT WASN'T TRUE. I'M SORRY."

SUMMER

"Well that place was a bust," Hope says as she slides the key into the lock. "My mom could make better chicken than that, and she couldn't cook for shit!" And Summer laughs. "At least the waiter was nice."

"Shit," Summer swears and face palms. "We forgot to get something for Anthony!"

"I'm sure as soon as he hears how terrible that food was, he won't mind at all."

"And he definitely won't regret not coming with us," Summer chuckles as Hope swings the door open. She stops laughing as soon as her friend's arm flies out and bumps her chest, stopping her from walking inside. "What?"

"Call 911 right now," Hope chokes.

"What? Why-" her words die in her throat as she sees it. Her vision goes blurry for a second as her heart does a flip in her chest as her breath catches in her throat. She can't make herself move as she stares in horrified shock at Anthony who's laying on the floor with his head resting in a pool of blood and a small gun in one hand.

"Summer! Call 911!" Hope shouts and rushes to Anthony's side.

Summer still can't make herself move, she's stuck in place pinned down by Anthony's blank stare boring into her. She can't even blink or look away.

"Summer!" Hope's scream in high and shrill and shatters the haze hanging around her. "Get over here!"

Summer shakes herself free from her trance and rushes to Anthony's side. Hope already has her phone out and pressed against his ear. Summer can feel her heart pounding in her throat as she looks over Anthony's body.

"Elevate his head," Hope orders. "Not too much, just- hold him, Summer."

Summer does as she's told and gently lifts his blood soaked head into her lap. The blood is hot and sticky as it slips between her fingers and soaks into her pants. She can see the hole in his head now, dark blood is bubbling from it in a slow lazy trickle. She thinks she's going to throw up. She works one hand down to his neck, almost not even daring to check his pulse for fear of what it will tell her. It's not really relief that floods over her as her fingers find his pulse that's barely even there, it's just a slight feeling of hope, but the kind of hope that leads to disappoint. Like being little and asking for a pony for Christmas despite living in the city. There's no way you'll get the pony, and yet, the vaguest feeling of hope is still there. She knows his heart isn't going to keep beating, but the vaguest feeling of hope is still there because it hasn't stopped yet.

He isn't dead yet. He could still make it. She keeps her finger pressed against his neck. It seems like an eternity in between each weak thump of his heart. One tiny eternity full of fear and dread, one impossibly long instant of waiting for the next little bump against her finger, waiting for the next tiny eternity and not knowing if it will come. She closes off the world around her and just lives by the tiny eternities passing by. She doesn't think about the fact that he'd had a gun in his hand, she doesn't pay attention to whatever Hope is saying to the 911 operator, she doesn't let her mind wander to the blood soaking into her pants, and she doesn't let herself think about how impossible him surviving is.

She just stays with him, barely even managing to breathe as she holds his head in her lap. She thinks that maybe she can see a tear at the edge of one of his hollow brown eyes.

Before she knows it the weight of his head is being lifted from her lap and she can no longer feel his heartbeat against her fingers. She panics and for a few terrifying seconds she can't breathe, then she's being pulled to her feet, and she realizes she can no longer feel his pulse because he is no longer there.

He's being lifted gently onto a stretcher. Summer moves forward to try and follow him as the stretcher is pushed through the doorway, but Hope's arms wrap around her and stop her.