The Milkshake Project

Fade Away

I jumped in my skin as a shrill ring startled me awake. I sat up slowly, breathing heavily in the quiet as I looked out into the dark of my bedroom. It was the dead of night. Nothing but the sound of the crickets outside could be heard, and the streetlights filtered dimly through the window. The ring sounded again from downstairs, and this time I recognized it as the kitchen telephone. I threw off the covers and padding down the stairs, catching the rotary di just as it begun its fourth ring.

"Hello?" I asked, the phone lying cold against my face.

"Is this Ms. Eleanor Harper," a dull voice announced.

"Y-yes," I said, my stomach twisting.

"Ms. Harper, this is Ithaca General Hospital. I'm calling in regards to a Mr. Warren Hugh Hale.

My hand tightened around the receiver, as my heart fluttered at the title.

"Okay," I breathed, my voice gone from my lungs.

"Mr. Hale received a gunshot wound to the lower-right abdomen. The doctors have done everything they can, but I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Harper...."

Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. My knees went weak, and my hands began to shake.

"No," I choked out, "Please, no."

"Ms. Harper, I am sorry to inform you that Mr. Hale had passed away-."

I felt like I was going to faint. The phone slipped from my hands and crashed against the countertop as my palm flew up to my mouth. I slowly backed away, grasping for anything to hold me up, but the world had gone dark.

Then, I was falling.

I jolted upright in my bed, panting and gasping for breath. I was in my room. The clock on the nightstand read six o'clock in the morning, and I painfully wondered how it could be morning already. I slowly drug myself from the covers, feeling the cold shock from the floor and the complaint from my tired body.

It was the third night that horrible dream had haunted what little sleep I got. Saturday night was spent in stressful awakeness save for an hour in which I passed out from sheer exhaustion.

I don't remember going home that night. There are flashes of my mother walking me up the porch steps and into the house. Then, there was the shock of cold water on my back. I saw what remained of the evening lazily swirl around my feet before disappearing down the drain.

Then, I was in my bed. There I remained for the weekend and into Monday, searching for warmth amongst my covers while I coldness seemed to grip me. I wanted to sleep but I was afraid that I would wake up to a world darker than the one I would drift into; here, Rider was alive.

Once I was dressed, I went downstairs and drifted into the kitchen where my mom was cooking breakfast.

"Oh!" she said with a jump, "Good morning, El. I didn't expect you to be up."

"Couldn't sleep," I replied simply, "School starts in an hour anyway."

"Oh, Dear, you don't have to go to school today. "You do what you feel like doing. I'm sure your teachers will understand."

"I didn't go Monday, and I don't feel any better today."

"You need to rest," my mother articulated, "Go back upstairs and lay down. I'll fix you some tea..."

"It's not like that," I said, "I feel like I can't breathe, like somebody is squeezing the air out of me. It feels like my heart is tear apart. It... It feels like when dad didn't come home."

My mom walked over and wrapped her arms around me.

"I know, El," she said, "I know. He's a good kid for this to be happening to."