In the Middle of the Bed (A Saira Collings Story)

January 29, 1995 (Kayleigh's Story)

This story is much like Mandy's. But, Kayleigh's mother was the one who pissed off Marison Rhoces.

Kayleigh was a girl in my brother's grade, one of his closest friends. She was nice, and played with me when she was over at our house. She was pretty as well, her looks inherited from her father, whose photo she showed to us one time; he died before she was born.

This particular day dawned clear and bright. Then, clouds rolled in around three, right as Kayleigh and I were leaving school. Carson usually walks with us, but he was sick that day. Flu, it's a killer.

Kayleigh was telling me a funny story about her cat riding her dog like it was a pony when a black SUV pulled up next to us on the street. The passenger window rolled down, and a cruel man peered out. He said roughly,"Are you Kayleigh Michaela?" Kayleigh straightens and asks hauntily,"Who wants to know?"

The man sneers, and says,"We're friends of your mom's. Our boss needs money from her." Kayleigh shrugs and says,"Then I can't help you. Mom is at work right now." The man laughs harshly, and says,"All the better. Makes our little surprise for her all the easier." "What little surprise?" Kayleigh asks hesitantly, fear twining through her words.

I knew what was about to happen as soon as I saw the dark hand of the man reach towards the dashboard. With a scream I launch myself at Kayleigh, knocking her down just as a bullet whizzes past my ear. We fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs and backpacks. The car door next to us bangs open, and I look up to see the man's face glaring down at us.

"I really hate to do this. But," he sighs dramatically as he points the gun at me,"It's business." I see the malicious gleam in his dark eyes, and know that he doesn't hate to do this. To shoot two young girls in cold blood. Over money.

A flicker of blue-white appears in my peripheral, and I glance over. A young girl stands thre, her black hair falling down her back, gray eyes wide and knowing. Her lips move, and I hear her voice in my head.

"Would Lauren appreciate what you're doing?" I ask suddenly, and the gunman staggers back. He growls and presses the muzzle of the gun against my forehead. "How do you know that name?" he hisses-growls. I simply stare at him, silently begging Kayleigh to leave. I had seen five people die already; I didn't want to see one of my friends leave for the shadow world as well.

The gunman snarls, then turns his pistol on Kayleigh, who hasn't moved. I try to signal to her to run, but her wide eyes are on the gun. The gunman twists his face into an expressionless mask, but I can still see in his eyes that my words have hit him hard.

Not blinking, he shoots Kayleigh right between the eyes. I watch in horror as my friend slumps to the ground, blood pouring from a hole in her forehead. The gunman turns to me, and says quietly,"I don't care what Lauren would think of me." The last thought that enters my mind is that he isn't really answering my question, but then another boom shocks through my ears, and I feel a pain flash through my body.

Now, some of you may be wondering how I could survive through a point-blank gunshot to the head, when even Abe Lincoln couldn't (if you have no clue what that means, look up the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. I had to put this reference in here because we're going over the end of the Civil War in Social Studies. I have to make my teachers proud somehow. ;p). Now, I have absolutely no clue how I could do that. Or how I could survive a gunshot to the chest. Or how I can see ghosts. My life is basically a huge What The Hell Is Going On? So, don't ask me.

I just remember waking up, like the shooting was a dream and I was opening my eyes in my own room, having dreamed the entire thing. But, no. Right next to me is Kayleigh's dead body, the blood from the gunshot pouring down the side of her head into her hair. Tears prick my eyes, and I close Kayleigh's once-bright ocean-colored eyes, which stared up at the cloudy sky with no life in them.

I stand, and walk up the street to my house. Grief surges in my chest, but I choke down my tears. I sense Kayleigh's spirit following me, but don't turn around; I can't face her, breathing and alive-miraculously-when she isn't.

Another piece of my soul breaks. This shard is blue, with the name Kayleigh etched into it. Six shards of glass, now. Jacob and Riley both have blue shards of glass. I have yet to figure out their color meanings, nor do I really want to at this point.

No, I simply walk to my house. I go through everything robotically, waiting for a scream to ripple up the street at the sight of Kayleigh's mangled corpse lying half in the street and half on the sidewalk.

The scream comes, alright. Everyone, except for me, rush outside to see whats going on. Misery erupts within me, combining with my anger and grief. That's the first time I thought about cutting. Apparently, my five-year-old brain thought, I kill everyone I come near. Might as well end these horrible feelings now and save everyone else.

Then, a voice in my head speaks. Do not despair, Saira. Your time will come. Many years from now, yes, but your time will come, it says. I heed its words, and simply go to bed. The covers wrap around me like a coccoon, an extra wall between me and the people I'll hurt one day or another.

Kayleigh's scar laces across the center of my back, curling along my left ribs. Her death taught me that i can withstand bullets. Or, at least, physical bullets. Emotional and psychological bullets, though? Not so much.