Into the Void

by Amanda Frame

  What if I had done something to him? What if this…alternate reality, or whatever, had affected him? The other times this had happened it was clear only I had seen it. Did I somehow make him aware of it as well? The image of his wild eyes seared my brain. Guilt seeped into my belly.

  “Did you follow him to the library?” How does she always know? “I thought we agreed not to do that yet! What happened? He looked…shaken up,” Becca said with a distant look in her eyes, clearly disturbed.

  “Yeah, I followed him…” I trailed off, unsure how the hell to explain what had happened, if I even wanted to explain.

  “Okay, you have to tell me. That was freaking weird. That wasn’t a coincidence. How did he know where you were?”

  I pressed my lips together in confusion. Had he been looking for me? Did he know it was me who had done this to him? How did he know where I was?

  “I don’t know,” I said slowly.

  “You need to stop saying you don’t know and tell me what the hell is going on!”

  She was right. I had dragged her into this mess; she deserved answers.

  “I did it. It happened.”

  “Oh my God, really? Again?”

  “Yeah. It’s not the headaches; I didn’t have one. Also I think he may have…” I paused, struggling to find the words. “…noticed something happening.” My voice cracked at the end, crazed laughter threatening to choke me. This was ridiculous. All of the things that had happened since my car accident were so absurdly horrifying that it was almost amusing. And weirdly familiar.

  “What does that even mean?” Becca asked, almost bursting with her thirst for explanation.

  I struggled to find a way to put the experience into words. Brian’s skeletal body being sucked dry by some…thing, leeching strength into itself. The haunted look in Brian’s eyes when he saw me, right before he bolted from the library.

  I took a deep breath. “Okay. So I followed him to the library,” I began. She crawled into the backseat with me. “Everything was normal at first. I sat down near him for sec, then decided to leave, stubbed my freaking toe trying to stand up, by the way, like a freaking idiot.” She glanced down at my foot, which was starting to bruise.

  “Ouch,” she said, raising her eyebrows, then motioned for me to continue.

  I tried to gather some words, but trying to explain to Becca what had happened felt like recalling some crazy dream I’d had, where I couldn’t quite connect the bits and pieces together in a way that was coherent. After about a half hour of going back and forth, her asking me questions and me fumbling with the answers, she was finally satisfied with my story.

  She sat facing me, hugging her knees to her chest as though she was cold, even though the AC wasn’t working very well. The blood had drained from her face about ten minutes into our conversation and she was still as pale as a ghost, eyes wide in disbelief or maybe shock. My face started to get hot under her gaze. It seemed like her excitement at something possibly paranormal and fascinating happening in her life had dissolved.

  “And this was real? You’re sure this was real?” Her enthrallment and her concern for me were battling with each other.

  “I know it. I feel it. It’s just as real as you are sitting in front of me.” I reached out to touch her to demonstrate her corporality. She tensed as if she was going to pull away, and I let my hand fall to the seat in front of me. It hurt.

  “Okay. Okay.” Her mouth twisted, as if she was struggling to find something to say. Instead, she crawled back into the driver’s seat and pulled the car out of the parking lot. We drove in silence. My stomach was twisting, and I could feel fear radiating off Becca as though I could reach out and grab it.

  I knew my best friend was scared of me.

  CHAPTER 11

  ANNA

  He should have intervened sooner. He had gotten his chance and changed his mind at the last minute. Now it was too late. He had made a promise to himself and broken it out of cowardice, and now had to pick up the pieces. But maybe she would help him in return.

  ~

  When I got out of Becca’s car and trudged into school the next day, it no longer felt like a place of learning. Maybe it had never been a pleasant place, but it used to feel normal. Now it felt suffocating, like the hallways were closing in on me and the desks were too small.

  Focusing on class was incredibly difficult. I was lost inside my head. Did I hurt Brian? I hadn’t seen him yet today, even though I kept scanning the halls. As much as I wanted to avoid him, I also wanted to make sure he was all right.

  After second period, I saw him standing in front of his open locker, just staring into it. I almost didn’t recognize him. His hair was disheveled and his face was pale. Brian’s eyes, usually gleaming with mischief, were glassy and red-rimmed. I had never seen him look this shitty and I almost gasped out loud.

  Someone slammed into my back as I stopped in the middle of the hallway, my eyes glued to Brian’s profile.

  I didn’t know if it was possible for someone to lose ten pounds overnight, but it sure looked like he had. People kept slowing down as they walked by him, whispering to their friends and glancing nervously at Brian. Most people were trying to be discreet, but it was obvious that most people noticed his drastic change in appearance.

  Everyone slowly filtered into classrooms until just a few stragglers remained behind, Brian and I included. Neither of us had moved. It was like Brian was totally oblivious. He dropped his eyes to the floor and let his locker swing closed. He turned toward me slowly, beginning to head towards class, trudging along distractedly. He finally noticed me and glanced up. When he saw my face, his eyes went wide and he stopped dead in his tracks. My heart raced and I felt like I should say something, but the words were stuck in my throat. I barely heard his hoarse whisper.

  “What did you do to me?”

  His words hit me like a hammer and I took a step back, clutching my chest and shaking my head. No, no, no. I didn’t do this. I wasn’t capable of breaking someone like this. Denial filled me from head to toe, and I wanted to scream at him that it wasn’t true, it wasn’t me. The guilt was overwhelming, but it was diluted by an inexplicable anger.

  Before I could gather my thoughts, my skin prickled and electric goosebumps sprung up on my bare arms. Brian’s gaze shot up so fast it seemed his neck would snap. I followed his line of sight and a strangled cry escaped me.

  A dark form was crouched on the water-stained ceiling tiles. Even though it looked translucent enough to blow away like a cloud any second, I recognized it immediately, and even more terrifyingly, it seemed as though Brian did as well. It was definitely the shadow that had stalked after Brian out of the library yesterday. The thing sat on the ceiling like it had its own personal gravity. Blackness rippled out from it across the tiles.

  The tapping of high heels echoed toward us as a teacher holding a stack of papers rounded a corner. She slowed her pace and squinted at us. I could see her out of the corner of my eye. Brian and I were still staring up at the ceiling wide-eyed, and she followed our gaze, confusion written on her face. It was clear she didn’t see what we saw.

  As soon as I flicked my eyes toward the teacher, an ear-splitting scream tore out of Brian’s throat. The teacher jumped and I stumbled backward, my backpack sliding off my shoulder. I stared at Brian as he writhed on the floor, foggy darkness swirling around him. Terror distorted his face as he kicked and swatted at the incorporeal flesh enveloping him. His blows passed right through it. Soon Brian’s limbs began moving more slowly; he was losing strength.

  The teacher ran toward Brian and dropped to her knees, papers forgotten on the floor. I lurched forward and reached out to stop her, but it was too late. Her hand was already on him. But it didn’t make any impact. It was like the shadow-thing didn’t even notice.

  “Call 911! I think he’s having a seizure!” she yelled at me. But I was paralyzed with fear. “Now!” she snapped. I reached for my phone and dialed 911 with shaking fingers.


  “911, what’s your emergency? Hello? Hello?” I held the phone to my ear but couldn’t talk. The teacher was suddenly next to me, prying it out of my hand.

  “I’m at Cypress High and we have a student having a seizure, please send…”

  The rest of her words we lost to me as a roaring sound filling my skull. I clutched my head, trying to block out the nightmare. Bile rose in my throat and I ran to the nearest bathroom and vomited what felt like all the meals I had ever eaten. Resting my head on the toilet, I sobbed for an eternity.

  What had I done?

  CHAPTER 12

  ELIZABETH

  The siren was nearly deafening. The glow of red and blue flashes played over my eyelids.

  “Stay with me.” The composed voice willed my eyes back open for a moment, and I peered into a gentle face. The creases of worry etched on his forehead didn’t tarnish his calming smile. It was a practiced smile, used for many years to soothe bloodied bodies such as mine.

  I closed my eyes again but remained aware, listening to the rolling pitch of the siren, seeking out the voice that grounded me.

  Movement stopped for a brief moment, then I felt my body lurch forward and down, and the vibration of wheels over pavement. I opened my eyes when I heard the swing of doors and the onslaught of harried voices, too many to pull apart.

  With a sudden awareness of the taste of blood in my mouth and agony in my head, I knew it was time to go. It was a peaceful revelation, an understanding that brought resolution and acceptance. Everyone’s life in this world comes to an end, and this was mine.

  I let go. The physical form that had sustained me for so many years breathed one final sigh of relief, the end of suffering. A bright light filled the space behind my eyelids then faded, leaving me standing, free of pain, looking down at my body.

  With a detached curiosity I watched the people around me trying so hard to convince me to stay. How odd it was that strangers would put so much effort into saving the life of a person who was unknown to them, someone they had no feelings for, no love, no friendship, no hate.

  “Clear!” I heard an electric buzz, then saw my body jolt, metal paddles touching my bare chest. I walked away. There was no need to witness this. I was already gone; the broken body on the table no longer belonged to me.

  I strolled calmly out of the room and down the hallway. The people and noises around me dulled, the shining silver light returning and dimming my surroundings. I continued like this, only feeling a slight sadness for my loved ones who I knew would mourn me. Only twenty-eight years spent on this earth, but they were years well spent.

  I thought of the children I would never have, the wedding I no longer had to plan, and the business I had created coming to an end. But it was okay, this was how it was supposed to be.

  Suddenly, the calmness snapped away and I felt myself being drawn back down the hallway, back toward the room that contained the body I had no longer been connected to just moments before. This was wrong; this wasn’t supposed to happen. It was my time to move on.

  I stood next to my body once more, against my will, and saw a plastic hose down my throat, a machine making my chest rise and fall. Wires and tubes were attached in too many places, artificial devices that would keep a hopeless vessel in a semblance of life. It was unnatural, horrifying.

  I caught movement in my peripheral vision and looked toward the swinging double doors. My mother and father were hugging, shoulders heaving in unheard sobs, witnessing the machines that were postponing their daughter’s death.

  A woman in a white lab coat gently blocked them from entering the room, shaking her head, directing them away. It took several people to wheel my body out of the room, one pushing the bed, four more guiding the machines that were attached. I followed somberly, entering a second room, this one free of blood on the floor, as though to make it seem like everything might be okay.

  My parents came in and stood next to me, peering down at the bed. I reached towards them, but my hand passed through with an icy tingle.

  Jordan rushed into the room, just moments behind. I wanted to kiss his soft lips, tell him that he would be all right, he would find someone else to spend his life with.

  I watched the pain on their faces for a few minutes, blocking out their heartbreaking words. The woman in the white lab coat entered and all four of us turned to look, her expression dire.

  “I’m so sorry, but she’s not going to make it. We have her on life support now, but we are in the process of contacting organ recipients. I am very sorry for your loss.”

  Her words were matter-of-fact. Harsh and to the point, clearly said many times and to many families. But they only sparked anger, hot tears, and desperation.

  “But if she’s on life support, why do we have to take her off? She’s alive!” my father pleaded.

  “I’m very sorry Mr. Dixon, but there is no brain activity. Elizabeth’s body is being artificially sustained. There is no hope of her reviving. It is very, very expensive to keep a patient on life support. It is not worth your pain or money to do so.” I knew the truth in this.

  “No. No!” my mom protested. “We have money! We aren’t giving up! We can’t, not yet. Not on my Liz.” This terrified me. I felt a tether keeping me here, and this body was sustaining it. It was awful, pulling at my soul. I needed to move on; it was what was meant to be.

  Jordan hadn’t said anything. He was in shock. It was only three days ago he gave me the diamond that rested gently on my finger. He reached for that hand now, fiddling with the ring, feeling its significance.

  Time went by. I watched my loved ones come and go. I listened to the beeping of the machines. All the while the tether remained. Horrible and tight. Invisible.

  With every passing moment, the world was fading. It was there, I could feel it. I could see it overlaying the empty room. It transparency scared me. I was losing touch with it. But my body remained, more opaque than everything else around me, but still out of reach and yet binding me there, to the physical world that was now emptying, my incorporeal form not capable of existing completely in such a corporeal place. Somehow I knew this to be true, as if this place had always been here, just out of sight, waiting for the ones like me, the ones who were meant to move on but couldn’t. It was not natural to be in this empty place, and I knew it deep in my soul.

  But I could feel a presence within that emptiness, one that did belong here, that survived here. And it could feel me too.

  CHAPTER 13

  JOHN

  After the incident in the bank, my parents could no longer pretend that they hadn’t noticed that something had been wrong for years. The silence stretched and the cigarette smoke burned my eyes as I read the prescription bottle. The list of side effects was beyond my comprehension.

  “What’s hypotension?” There was no response. “Dad?”

  “Let your father drive, John,” my mom said as she took yet another drag from her cigarette.

  I guess it didn’t matter. Nothing could be worse than what they said I had. Schizophrenia. It sounded like a dirty word. Oily, somehow. Like it would leave a residue in my mouth if said out loud.

  Maybe that was why no one was talking.

  When we got home from the doctor, my dad told me to read the directions on the paperwork for how often to take the medication. That’s the last time it was discussed. It was like my diagnosis was the family’s dirty little secret and if we didn’t talk about it maybe it would go away.

  The meds made me nauseous and tired, but time went by and I didn’t have any more episodes, so I had a little hope that maybe they were working.

  Then about three weeks later, I felt a pressure in my ears. The noises around me dulled except for a faint high-pitched tone. I figured this was what ringing in the ears meant—another listed side-effect of the medication. It was annoying, but tolerable, just like the fatigue and nausea. Another three months went by and still no episodes.

  “John, can you go get a container of tomato sauce in t
he freezer, please?” my mother asked me before dinner one day.

  “Sure.” I pushed my math homework to the side and trudged over to the basement door. I flipped on the lights and walked down the creaky wooden stairs to the expansive basement. As I stepped off the last stair to make my way to the chest freezer at the far end, my ears began to ring, but stronger than I’d ever felt so far. I grimaced and stuck my finger in my ear and wiggled it, trying to relieve the pressure. It didn’t help. Not even two steps into the basement, my surroundings began to dim and the air started to feel heavy. I froze.

  No, no, no. Not again, I thought. The paint cans on the wall shelving disappeared, and the wooden shelves rotted and fell apart. The washer and dryer were gone, the concrete beneath cracked and dulled.

  I watched my basement age fifty years in ten seconds.

  My hope that this nightmare of the last few years was over was crushed. The medication wasn’t working. I thought back to the creature at the bank and my heart leapt into my throat. But there was nothing in the basement with me.

  Then my fear evaporated and was replaced by anger. I was angry at myself, angry at my parents. Angry at the doctor. Everyone had let me down. Weren’t parents supposed to protect you? Weren’t doctors supposed to cure you? My parents ignored me and the doctor had failed me.

  If this was indeed schizophrenia, then none of this was real, right? So fine, I would disprove the reality. I walked towards where the freezer should have been with my new bravery and anger fueling each step.

  But after about fifteen feet, farther than I had ever gone into this void before, it began to feel like I was trying to walk underwater. I focused on one step at a time, forcing my way through the jellied air, determination etching my face. The air got so thick that the exertion forced beads of sweat to roll down my temples. I had made it another five feet when I suddenly felt a distinct snap, and stumbled forward. The atmosphere returned to the typical mild heaviness I always felt in this place.