Chapter 15 Ricky
“NO!” I bark loudly, stretching my arm towards the memory of her. The intense morning light shines in my pupils as they spring open in shock the moment I hit the soft carpeted floor of my bedroom. I scramble backward in fear until my back meets the far wall.
“Shit.” I huff nervously through the word as it seeps from my lips.
That’s never happened before.
Not during any of the two-hundred days I’ve relived so far, but what does it matter?
I drag my knees towards me, resting my elbows on top of them—inhaling deeply to control my staccato breaths and rapid heartbeat.
I run my fingers through my thick black hair, and sigh in frustration, punching my bedside table with as much force as I can muster.
I remember everything.
No matter how many days I’ve lived without her.
That never changes. I’ve tried countless ways to save her life, to bring her back to me, and nothing has worked.
I always wake up on October thirty-first, with the loss of her beside me.
The draining feeling of knowing I have to go through it all over again but also not caring at the same time.
Because any chance I have to keep her alive will never be a hardship.
I just want her with me.
Need her with me.
“Alright,” I say to myself. “Get up, Ricky, let’s” —I push to stand and groan at the ache in my right side, rubbing it to somewhat ease the pain— “get the day started all over again.”
I stretch as best as I can, cracking my back at the same time, then walk the few steps towards my closet and drag open the door. I pull a pair of black jeans from the shelf to the right and put them on. Pairing them with my usual black Henley and black Chucks.
Just like… always.
I make sure everything is the same
From the clothes I wear, to the words I speak, and the food I eat.
Nothing changes. I repeat each day just as I remember. Because the more accurate the day is, the better chance I have of finding her in the graveyard. I wake up, in fear of changing even the most miniscule thing and possibly losing her forever.
Jogging down the flight of stairs towards the lower level of the house, I grip the end of the bannisters and swing myself around the edge and into the open-plan kitchen.
Usually, I’d change my cereal once a week because I hate eating too much of the same thing, but for the past two hundred fucking days I’ve eaten a bowl of Lucky Charms.
I just had to pick the worst cereal on the worst day of my life.
I pour the cereal in a bowl, listening to the tiny pieces hit the ceramic of the bowl, turn around to open the fridge behind me, and—
“What the—” I pick up the usual carton of milk, realising… “Out of date?” I scowl to no one but myself. “What the fuck?”
“Oh my god!?” My mother’s cry of shock echoes from the living room, and I freeze, wondering if I might be hearing things, or the last two hundred days of repetitive motions have done something to my brain and I might genuinely be going insane.
Delicate sobs from inside the living room confirm I’m not the only person in the house, which isn’t normal either.
Usually, my mother is at work until the afternoon on Halloween.
I place the cereal bowl and its contents on the kitchen island and close the refrigerator before slowly making my way into the living area.
The news caster’s words come through the speakers the closer I get to the other room.
“The parents of three young men whose lives were lost in the Greek Row fire have been notified. Police say the explosion was due to a gas leak within the building, although they’re unsure of how this happened.
So far, only the bodies of Jack Davies, Toby Cooper, and Chad Williams, have been found inside the remnants of the house, and firefighters are still combing the area.
In other news, the body of Patrick Chambers was found by Lake Plummet in the early hours of this morning.
It’s said he died in a head-on collision with a truck that… ”
What the fuck?
“Mom?” I breathe softly, my eyes darting from her to the television and back. She jumps up from the couch, eyes bloodshot and tears streaming down the apples of her cheeks.
Christ, she’s physically shaking.
“Ricky?!” she cries in panic, bounding around the three-seater couch and rushing into my arms. My mother holds me close to her—even though she’s much shorter than I am—sobbing in my arms only for the briefest of seconds before she pulls back.
Her face is pink, eyes swollen and drenched with tears as she begins to check me over.
“Are you okay? What happened? Where were you? Are you… my god, sweetheart, are you hurt?” She asks one question after the other, not giving herself a chance to breathe, or me a chance to answer either.
My mother is in full-on panic mode, and honestly… I completely understand why.
“Mom.” I take hold of her wrists as I try to calm her. “I’m… hey, hey… shh, it’s alright.” I pull her back towards me and wrap her in another warm hug. “I’m fine, I swear. I was home last night,” I lie. “I decided the party wasn’t for me.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she cries. “I don’t know what I would’ve… Oh—”
“Shh,” I comfort her. “You’ll never have to find out, I promise. I’m right here.”
I look back at the television once more, watching the overhead clips of the burning frat house from the news helicopter circling around.
Fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars are scattered around the entire building.
Thick, black smoke billows from every window, and a multitude of news reporters and white vans surround the area.
“What happened?” I ask, resting my chin on top of her head.
None of this has happened before.
Did I change something?
Did I finally break the cycle?
“There… oh my god.” She sniffles, pulling out of my hold as we both watch the details fly across the screen.
“They’re saying there was a gas leak, and the house it…
it—” She chokes on more thick sobs of emotion.
“I thought… I didn’t see you in bed when I came home, and…
oh god, I was so scared you were in that fire. ”
“It’s fine.” I squeeze her, holding the warmth of my mother closer to me. “I’m safe.” I take a slight step back and lift her face. “Look.” I smile as best as I can. “See?”
“I wish I could feel sad for everyone else… but… I’m just happy you’re okay.” My mother lifts her hands to her face, wiping the contents of her tears from her blotchy skin. “What an awful thing for me to—”
“Mom?” I ask, cutting her off and still looking at the television. “What’s the date today?”
“The date? What do you—”
I look at her. “Yes, Mom, the date… please. It’s important!”
“November first, sweetheart, why?”
I did it… I… I broke the chain.
I’ve been living October thirty-first for so long it’s good to finally hear another date said out loud. “I… I have to go, but I’ll be back in a little while.” I chuckle, excitement running through me.
“What?” she asks as I press a kiss to her forehead, and I smile when I step back from her. “Ricky, where are you—”
“I’ll be right back. I just… I need to see if my friends are safe.
” I hate lying to her, and even though I love her more than life itself, I need to find Heather before I give a fuck about anything else.
Storming from the living room, I grab the keys to my bike from the crystal bowl by the kitchen sink and bound towards the front door.
“Make sure you call Heather and check if she’s okay!!” my mother calls from behind me, and I stall momentarily.
“Heather?” I ask turning around to look at her once more. “What do you—”
“Yes… your girlfriend, Heather. She called me last night as she couldn’t get hold of you.” She steps closer, pressing the back of her hand against my forehead. “Sweetheart, are you feeling alright? Maybe you should stay home today.”
“What did she say?” I swipe her hand away as gently as I can.
“Uh, something about staying home. I don’t know, I couldn’t hear her very well what with how busy I was at work.”
“Alright.” I smile softly. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
Heather. I need to find Heather.