Fissure

5

I can't leave her behind again.

That thought swirled through Bree's mind over and over.  She ran in a full sprint through the halls, tilted forward.  One of the other tenants was coming out of their room and she almost crashed into them. 

"I hope you fucking die."  Said the little kid with filmy dead eyes as she careened past.  

The grownup said nothing.  Features obscured in a hoodie, it gripped the kids arm like a vice and walked in the opposite direction.  

She didn't even slow down.  Mumbled something that may have been intended as an apology, but came out as gibberish.  Kept crashing through the halls, going in circles.  She passed the laundry room twice.  Made sure not to look into it.  She hadn't realized the halls had been set up to go in a circle.  The same moment she had that realization, she also decided it hadn't been.  That's just how this was happening.  

When she saw the elevator, she slowed, only to pick up speed and whip past it.  

I can't leave her behind again.

Bree growled in frustration and bolted back to Shelly's unit.  She panted heavily as her legs pumped, bringing her closer.  The brown carpet slipped by beneath her, the jagged pattern hypnotic.  

The door was still open.  Shelly cried somewhere deeper in the unit, the sound muffled and withdrawn.  

She stepped in slowly, quietly.  Trash littered the floor int he kitchen.  The garbage can had been upended.  Bree kicked around the loose pieces.  Couldn't find the crumpled up Kleenex from a few minutes ago she'd pushed into the trash.  A crumb trail led to the bedroom where more sobs could be heard.  

Heart hammering, but breath even, Bree took slow, careful steps.  When she was almost to the room, she slowed, reaching out to grab the door frame.  Everything in her fought to turn and run.  

Click

She turned her head.  The front door was closed.  Bree swallowed, not even surprised.  

The sobs rose to a wail.  It was a sharp sound that made her cringe.  Bree had to drag herself into the room with her arms.  Her legs followed reluctantly.  

The room was in complete disarray.  Clothes were scattered, the bedding thrown off towards the bathroom, covering the tile floor.  Her own makeshift bed had been kicked and thrown away.  Moonlight was starting to pour through the window, spilling over the floor and bed.  The light was cold, but seemed somehow more pale than it should.  Tinted.  It's just the window she lied to herself.  She turned her head slowly till she saw her friend's feet sticking out from the closet.  Bree moved deeper into the room, each step taking a monumental effort to lift her leg and set it down without collapsing under her own weight.  

Shelly was on her hands and knees in the closet.  Her light pink panties were stained with red, brown so deep it was almost black, and yellow, each color easily visible even in the gloom.  Now that her pants were off, Bree was assaulted with the smell of stale shit, old sweat, and dry blood.  She must have been wearing those for weeks.  Must have at least gone to the bathroom and tried to clean up, or it would have been worse.  

One shaky hand reached into a garbage bag on it's side, grabbed a Kleenex trailing the wispy strands and dragged it out.  The filaments danced wildly as if caught in a gale.  Sobbing, she brought it closer to her face.  "I'm taking care of you," she whimpered before stuffing it in her mouth.  

Bree thought she would vomit as her core muscles clenched and bile rose in her throat.  There was a flutter in her stomach and it disappeared as quickly as it came.  "Oh Shelly."  Hot tears poured over her cheeks.  "Shelly hon, stop."  She stepped closer.