Except that she was my mother. She was an amazing person and an even better mom. Jeremy was a low-life who beat on innocent kids just for fun, and even though I don’t believe he deserved to die, he was a lot closer to earning what he got than my mother ever was.
“Some Grim Reaper you are,” I tell Mellie, eyeing her closely. She looks slightly ashamed, but her neutral expression flickers back onto her face before I can be certain. “You still should have owned up to your mistake. You could have just told me. I might not have been so hurt if I’d heard it from you instead of learning it all through a memory.”
“You weren’t meant to die,” she says suddenly, shifting the conversation in a way that makes me feel agitated. “I know about the first two attempts, and I was there for the last one, too. It was easy
enough to hide some of the pills so that you didn’t take too many, but when you pulled out that knife I knew there was nothing I
could do. You had a few decades left, did you know that? If your mother hadn’t died, you would still be alive too. That’s why I didn’t come for you until after your funeral. I think I was ashamed, but now I’m not so sure. I might have just felt like I failed in my job as a Reaper.”
I gape at her, taking in her words. So she’s been following me around for the last five years to make sure I didn’t off myself before it was my time to die? How creepy is that? Although, that’s kind of what I’ve been doing with Andy, but at least he knows I’m there. I was being tailed by a ghost for years without a clue.
Part of me thinks it’s sweet that Mellie cared enough about me to save my life not once, but twice, although it was her fault I spiraled downwards enough to attempt suicide in the first place. So she wasn’t really trying to help me – she wanted to cover her own ass. She was doing a crappy job of being a Reaper and was trying to fix her mistakes. Did she get in trouble for killing my mother and causing my early death? I kind of hope she did, but since she’s here right now, I really doubt it.
“I wanted to die. You should have let me.”
Her frown deepens. “Then you should have let Andy. It was his time. You shouldn’t have interfered with that.”
“That’s different.”
Mellie cocks her head to the side, staring at me. It’s slightly unnerving. “No, it isn’t. I interrupted your timeline, and you did the same to his. I really am sorry about your mother, Terra. She was a wonderful woman. And I’m sorry about Andy too.”
My chest suddenly constricts and my breath hitches in my throat. “What about Andy?”
The memory playing out in the living room has stopped; the door is closed again and there’s no trace of my mom or myself. The room looks exactly like it did this morning. I can see Mellie shaking her head out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t look at her.
“I shouldn’t have done what I did to your mother,” Mellie says again, her voice soft. It almost lulls me into thinking she’s being sincere. “It changed the course of future events and caused you to die when you shouldn’t have. I don’t know what saving Andy will do to the future, and I can’t let that happen again. I’m sorry.”
No. There’s no way she’s saying what I think she is. Even someone as hard-hearted as Mellie couldn’t be that cruel.
I turn back around to face her, but she’s gone. A feeling of panic rises in my chest, choking off my breathing. She could have been lying again, or trying to get back at me for touching Jeremy. She could have been trying to sell her sob story about loving my mom, or lecturing me on using my powers responsibly.
But no matter what her goal was, I know what I need to do. I should never have left Andy alone, and I pray I’m not too late.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Of course, as usual, fate is not on my side. I realize that the second I step through Andy’s window and find him lying face-down on the floor at the foot of his bed.
The thought immediately jumps into my head to check if he’s breathing, but I remind myself not a moment too soon that I can’t touch him. He might still be alive, and if he is, the best thing I can do for him is stay as far away as possible.
“Andy,” I whisper, but he doesn’t respond. I try again, louder this time, “Andy! Andy, are you okay? Oh, God, please be okay.”
I look closely, leaning over with my head halfway through the floor. His chest heaves once, twice, and I breathe out a ragged sigh of relief. He gasps out a breath that rattles in his throat and one of his hands twitches at his side. He’s alive. He’s alive, he’s alright, he’s going to be okay.
Except, no, he’s not okay, because even though he’s breathing he’s still lying on the floor at an awkward angle that I know means he isn’t sleeping, and no matter how loudly I call his
name, he doesn’t respond. He should be talking; if he’s okay, he would be telling me to shut up right now because I’m shouting and he hates it when I yell. His chest rises again, slower this time, and his eyelids flutter so slightly I would have missed it had I not been staring.
I look around the room frantically, trying to figure out what happened to him. Mellie isn’t here, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t before I arrived; she could easily have come and gone in the time it took me to fly here. She could have touched him, but he’s still alive, so there’s no way she pulled his soul out. Maybe she tried to and made a mistake? It wouldn’t be the first time she’s messed up.
But then I notice the open drawer in the dresser nearest Andy’s window, socks spilling out the sides. I’m almost afraid to look in it, even though I know what I’ll find. An open pill bottle stares up at me, completely empty.
No, I think. This cannot be happening. I saved him; that was supposed to eliminate the possibility of this ending. He promised he wasn’t going to do something like this. He promised.
Of course, I made that same promise more than once when I was alive. Yes, dad, I promise I won’t do it again. I’m safe. I’m okay. I promise. People lie, and it was stupid of me to assume Andy was an exception. But this whole situation just doesn’t feel right. Andy wouldn’t just do something like this without a reason, and I have a bad feeling that Mellie had something to do with it.
“Andy,” I say again, crouching as close to him as I can. “If you can hear me, twitch your nose or move your hand or something.
When do your parents get home? Oh, God, it’s not even mid-day, is it? They’re gonna be at work for hours. Aw, man, the one time I actually want your mom to be here!”
Andy doesn’t move a muscle. His breathing is so slow I have to focus to see it, puffs of breath hitting my face like wind and blowing right through me. I think I see his eyelid tremble again, but I could just be imagining things. I’m starting to panic and the room is blurring in front of my eyes like it does when the stress is too much to handle. Can ghosts even have panic attacks? Obviously they can.
“Mellie, what the Hell did you do?” I raise my voice, even though I know there’s no way she’ll answer me. “He’s innocent! You didn’t have to – ”
“Terra?”
I turn my head so quickly the walls spin in circles and it takes me a moment to focus on Andy. His eyes are closed and his body is still, but his mouth is open just slightly and he sounds like he’s trying to say something else. I listen closely, but no more words come.
“Andy, geez, don’t scare me like that.” A small smile forms on his face, but the effort makes his breathing weaker. “Don’t move, okay? I’m gonna get you out of this. You can’t shake me that easily, alright?”
He doesn’t say anything. I glance around the room a second time, searching for anything that I can use to help him. I can’t make him throw up the pills, since that would require me to touch him and that would cause more harm than good. I can’t drag him down the stairs and drive him to the hospital for the same reason, and even if I
could I’m pretty sure my tangibility isn’t quite good enough to allow me to operate a motor vehicle. A bike, maybe, but how weird would that be?
My eyes lock on his
phone, lying on the end of his bed with the screen unlocked. It looks like he was listening to music before he took the pills and he didn’t bother to unplug his headphones or pause the song. That doesn’t make any sense. Even in my worst state of mind I had enough clarity to plan things out a little better than this. Either something really set Andy off since I saw him yesterday, or someone did. My bet is still on Mellie, even though I know there’s no way she could have forced him to do something like this. Even she isn’t that powerful. Right?
I grab the phone, pulling it down to the floor and tugging the headphones out of one end. Andy opens one eye blearily and watches me, and the panic in my chest rises.
It takes me way too long to navigate Andy’s phone to the ‘call’ screen; my fingers keep slipping through the glass and into the floor on the other side. The more frustrated I get, the harder it is, and by the time I manage to type the right numbers in I’m nearly ready to throw the phone across the room.
The ringing buzzes in my ears like static. I wonder if Andy can hear it; the phone is closer to me than to him. One, two, three rings and finally someone answers – a woman’s voice, light and high-pitched, echoes through the static on the other end of the line.
“Hello? What’s the nature of your emergency?” she asks, calm as can be. I wonder how many of these cases she’s had to deal with, and how many have ended in death. She’s nearly as
desensitized to it as I am, minus the fact that I’m totally freaking out right now. That doesn’t count – Andy’s always been special, for some reason.
I don’t know if I can do this. Making contact with solid objects is one thing, but talking to someone who isn’t dying and can’t even see me is another entirely. I clear my throat, looking over at Andy’s half-lidded eyes, and try to focus every ounce of energy I have left on getting my voice into the air and through the phone line.
“I need help,” I say, so loudly it makes Andy flinch. “My friend, he’s taken a bunch of pills and he – ”
“Hello?” the woman says again, and my heart feels like it’s sinking into my toes. “Is anyone there? Hello?”
“Yes! I’m here, we’re here, and we need help. Please, the address is – ”
The line clicks dead before I can finish.
“No, no, no, come on!” I press rapidly on the phone screen, willing the number to reconnect, but nothing happens.
I look back at Andy, watching his chest for a few moments just to make sure he’s still breathing. How many pills did he take? I didn’t ask him before – I should have. I should have asked him how many pills he was planning on taking and made sure there were less. I should have stayed with him instead of going to Jeremy’s funeral. I should have stopped whatever caused him to want to do this in the first place. I should, I should, I should.
Is this how my family felt, after I killed myself? This is a horrible, disgusting feeling. I never wanted my dad and Olivia to feel like this. What did I do?
I scroll through Andy’s phone again, looking for anything that I can use to help him. His contact list glares up at me from the ‘call’ menu and I press it, my finger firmly hitting the glass screen with a sound that clicks in my ears. I could call one of his friends, but I don’t even know if he has any, and what would be the point? They’d just hear radio silence on the other end and hang up without another thought, just like the emergency operator did.
I can’t call anybody, but I can text. I can send a message to somebody, and hope that they understand it and know what to do.
But who should I choose? His parents are both terrible; they probably wouldn’t care if he died anyway – just one less transgender kid for them to worry about. And Andy doesn’t have many people in his contacts list; it’s mostly limited to family and business numbers, like his school and the place he goes to for doctor’s appointments. Looking at the text message screen, I get the feeling that Andy doesn’t even use his phone very often. There are a few messages to each of his parents – simple things like ‘I’ll pick up milk after school’ and ‘Sorry about yesterday’ – and almost nothing else. It’s kind of sad, but I try not to dwell on it; I was the same way when I was alive, and that thought makes me feel even worse.
My finger hovers over ‘Mom,’ and I press the button before I can stop myself. If she has any shred of maternal love left in her, she’ll help her son. Otherwise, Andy might not have enough time left for me to try again with someone else.
Typing is even harder when my fingers keep phasing through the phone. I manage a short message – ‘need help. Call ambulance’ – and press send as quickly as I can. Andy sounds like he’s gasping for
breath beside me, and I look at him even though I know I won’t like what I’ll see. His eyes are closed now and he looks so peaceful, he might just be sleeping if I didn’t know any better. But I know and the truth makes everything look that much more horrific. His hands are limp and he’s drooling on the floor and dammit, if Mellie had something to do with this I’ll kill her. I don’t care if she’s already dead – I’ll find a way.
“Andy, I texted your mom. I can send a message to your dad too, if you think it’ll help, but – Andy?”
Andy is motionless, his chest barely raising every few seconds. He’s pale, even more than the pasty white kid he already is, and his body has slumped down onto the floor with his arms splayed like he just lost consciousness. I say his name a few more times, my voice rising to a near-shout, but he doesn’t even flinch. How many pills did he take? And why?
“Come on, Andy, come on.” I blow as hard as I can on his face, but I know he probably can’t feel it. I pick up his phone with trembling hands and tap it against his arm lightly, just enough to wake him, but he doesn’t move.
I should text his dad, just to make sure someone gets here in time, but when I look down the phone has locked itself again, the screen an inky black that blurs my vision, and there’s no way I’ll be able to guess the code in time. And, of course, Andy isn’t conscious enough to tell me the password, so there goes my only option. There’s literally nothing else I can do.
For the first time, I put myself in Mellie’s shoes. She
watched me from the day my mother died until I killed myself, and she saved me twice in that time. It must have been hard for her to see me finally succeed at ending my life, even though the only reason she was protecting me in the first place is because she felt guilty about killing my mom. Some part of me wants to believe that she actually cared about me – that maybe the years haven’t dulled her empathy after all. Because if she really is capable of loving someone, then she might have truly loved my mother. At least someone was with her when she died, even if it is someone I’m not on the best terms with right now.
Andy isn’t breathing. His chest has completely stopped moving, and a chill shoots through me as I look over his still body. Even if an ambulance arrives within the next few minutes, there’s very little chance they’ll be able to save him. The pills are already in his system; how are they going to stop them from attacking his body from the inside? The damage has already been done. Even if they find him soon, he’ll probably have brain damage or become paralyzed or something equally as horrific.
If he would just wake up, maybe I could keep him conscious long enough for help to arrive. His soul hasn’t left his body yet, so I know he’s still alive. If he would just take a breath, fight a little harder, then he might still have a chance. That is, if he even wants to.
Is it selfish of me to expect Andy to live when I myself chose not to? I wanted to die, and I would have hated anybody who got in the way of that happening. Is Andy going to hate me if he wakes up and is still alive? I don’t know if I could handle him hating me, but
the alternative is worse. If he dies, he’ll be no better off than me.
He might go to Heaven, and maybe he’ll be happy there. Nobody will pick on him and he won’t have to deal with his parents trying to force him to be someone he isn’t. But if he gets stuck, then he’ll be sufferi
ng even more than he is now. I would know.
“God, Andy, just wake up! Just open your eyes and I’ll stop shouting and I won’t bug you anymore, I promise. But you’ve just gotta try a little more. Andy?”
Nothing. Bleak silence greets me and my throat suddenly feels tight. This is it, isn’t it? The one thing I’ve been trying to prevent is about to happen, and I’m stuck just sitting here watching.
“Andy!” I call his name again even though I know there’s no point, and I shake his shoulder and –
And I draw my hand back like I’ve just been burned. A thin, translucent piece of his soul sticks to my fingertips and I stare at it for a moment too long, watching as the form shifts and grows before my eyes.
No. No, this cannot be happening right now. Not after all of this. Not now.
I try desperately to push his soul back into his body, shaking my hand off on his arms, back, head, but nothing happens. I stand, plant my feet on the floor, and use every ounce of force I can muster, but still… nothing.
I stop trying. I stop fighting and I take a step back and close my eyes. I can’t watch this. I shouldn’t even be here right now.
I’m halfway to the window when I hear it and turn back. It’s a small voice, so soft I can barely hear it, but when it repeats itself I
know in an instant that it’s Andy and I can’t leave.
“Terra?”
I turn around and there he is.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Andy takes a wobbly step forward and immediately overbalances himself, tripping over his own feet and falling flat on his face. I would have laughed under any other circumstances, but his body is right there and it just doesn’t seem right. There’s nothing funny at all about what just happened.
Death in Spades Page 20