Imperfect | est. 2015

13. What's Left

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"Skylar," Connor's hand was cold in my arm while he tried to shake me awake.
He was up from his sleeping bag on the floor and Addison was no longer on the other side of me.
His voice shaky, as if something happened, "Please, wake up. It's important."

I rubbed my eyes and clearly saw his figure arched over me. His face was pale and I could see all the worry in his eyes.

"Get up, now," he starts trying to help me out of bed with one hand on my arm again, "we need to hurry."

I was only half awake, "Connor, what's going on?"

He dragged me out of my room and down the hall where Addison followed. All I could see was the hazy image of blue and red flashing out a window.

And my stomach nearly dropped.

"What's that? What's going on?" I asked more questions than I could process.

There was no fire. There was no man with a gun. Addison and Connor were both fine.

I had no idea what was happening.

Then they opened the front door for me.
The cold cement came as a shock to my bare feet, and I had to adjust to how intense the lights were.

They both stopped, standing beside me. Addison wrapped her arm around mine, in order to make sure I didn't get overwhelmed by what I was about to see.

It was my grandma. They were lifting her stiff body into an ambulance, and before I had time to even process, they shut the doors.

I heard myself gasp. My pulse was already racing uncontrollably and my head was spinning, "What happened." I said, sternly, trying to tear my arm away from Addison's grip.

I spoke again, only twice as intensely, "What's wrong with her? Why are they taking her?"

Connor tries to stand closer to me, quickly compromising a way to calm me down before I exploded.

If they would've just given me an answer, my worries would be divided-- but they just stood there and tried to quiet me down.

Then I saw my grandpa. His shoulders low and his eyes latched on the flickering lights on the ambulance. He watched as it began to drive off, along with the other vehicles around it.

"No," I had tears burning around the lining of my eyes, "she's going to be okay, right?"

That's when my grandpa sees me.

He turned to see me with my arms forcibly locked between Addison and Connor. And how firmly they swore to themselves not to let me chase after the ambulance.

"Skylar," I heard his frail voice from across the yard. He was trying to get my attention as he made his way toward me, "it's okay, you don't have to panic."

But my volume was still raised to it's highest, "She can't die, Grandpa. I'm not ready," He decided to take over, gesturing for the two of them to let go of me... then he wrapped his arms around me, so my head was on his shoulder. My tears were noticeably falling through the fabric of his shirt.
I was still mumbling quietly as he had his hand on the back of my head, "i'm not ready for her to go, grandpa." I could hardly understand myself. My cries were forcing out any breath I had left in my lungs.

He shushed me, "She's not going to die," he had his voice trapped in a tired swelling of his throat, "she just had a stroke... they can save her."

I felt how deep and painful my breathing suddenly was. I couldn't calm myself down. It was as if I had never experienced something like that in my life. But what he said was familiar. That one thing he just said.. that was supposed to make it easier for me to handle... but really, it just tossed me into another terrible memory.