Chapter 11
Drew
I
jolt out of bed to the sound of knocking on my door. The knocks seem to echo in my head, tricking my brain into Flight or Fight mode, making my heart pound.
Are loud noises going to scare the shit out of me from now on? Most likely.
It’s December 24th, technically Christmas Eve, but I can’t say I’m in the holiday spirit.
The past 48 hours have been a complete blur. I’ve been in and out of sleep, my nightmares not letting my mind or body rest.
I have been too scared to fall asleep because I’m afraid to see the worst day of my life play in my mind, over and over again. I’ve been forcing my eyes to stay open until they close against my will, until I can tear them open to make the nightmares stop, beginning the painful cycle again.
After what felt like an eternity piled in the corner of my classroom with my 24 students, we heard from a bullhorn outside that the suspect was in police custody, and police were sweeping the area.
My students and I stayed plastered in the corner, silence taking over us, until we heard the announcement that the area was clear, and we could come out.
Walking my students outside into the crowd of people was the most surreal experience. There are parts that are missing from my memory, and parts that are so crystal clear.
I had walked my students out to that very same blacktop numerous times before, but I knew it would never feel that simple again. I knew this time was being etched deep into my skin, making a mark on my bones.
The sun was still shining as we made our way out the school doors, but the brightness of the day didn’t make the darkness of what took place any lighter.
My eyes took a second to adjust after squeezing them shut so tightly just minutes earlier. The air was cold, but it didn’t bother me—I would have felt cold even if it was the middle of the summer.
As I walked across the concrete, my arms holding onto a few students who couldn’t bring themselves to let go of me, I was bombarded with voices. Police, paramedics, reporters, all coming at me.
“What’s your name?”
“What do you do here?”
“How many students do you have?”
“Are you or your students injured?”
I have no recollection of how I responded or if I even did, but the next thing I remember, I was watching my kids get ushered off by police to contact their families. I didn’t realize how much I was relying on the ones holding on to my arms to keep me from falling to my knees. The second the few of them let go, I felt my legs give out below me. A paramedic caught me right before everything went black.
The school sent out an emergency message when everything happened, and Lacey is my emergency contact. Her and Tyler came to the school to pick me up once the paramedics checked me out.
I could feel Lacey’s warmth the second her arms wrapped around me, and I instantly felt a small sense of relief. I vaguely remember getting in the car with her, Tyler staying to grab my phone, keys, and other things. He ended up driving my car back to my apartment.
I don’t think I ever passed out again, but the car ride home is foggy in my brain. I remember learning my head against the cold passenger side window and closing my eyes. I had done the drive from school to my complex so many times, I knew what turns we were making even with my eyes closed.
Lacey didn’t say anything, but she held onto my hand the entire drive. The slow movement of her thumb back and forth against the back of my hand lulling me to a sense of calmness, enough to drift in and out of sleep during the drive home.
I don’t remember anything after that. Not until waking up to Lacey and Tyler’s muffled voices in my kitchen a few hours later. I was in bed, under my covers, so I figured they must have put me there.
I think my mind was trying to protect me from any more trauma, and it tried to block out the hours following what happened. All the events following when I fainted are all a blur, and I cannot fully recall anything longer than a few minutes until Lacey heard me rustling in my bed and came in to see how I was doing.
My face was damp with tears, my hair sticking to my face, and my mouth was so dry, I wasn’t sure I would be able to talk. I looked down to see I was still in the clothes I wore to school that morning, but I felt Lacey touch my cheek as she moved a piece of hair out of my face.
“Hi, honey. I’m glad you’re awake.” I looked up to meet her green eyes, so kind but concerned, and I felt a sense of relief run through me having her there, knowing that I didn’t want anyone else by my side in this very moment.
Lacey has always been my exact opposite.
Confident in who she is and absolutely gorgeous.
She is a four or five inches taller than me, her body still in great shape from years of being a Pilates instructor in college. Her blonde hair falls in loose curls over her shoulders, consistently dressed in pastels to complement her ivory skin and business casual.
She’s the yin to my yang, always there to balance me out.
When I’m negative, she was positive. When I’m doubtful, she is full of hope. When I feel like I am falling apart, she is there to hold all the pieces together.
Seeing her the day I needed her the most was like a light at the end of a dark tunnel. She was wearing white trousers and a lavender sweater that enhanced her features perfectly, and I wanted nothing more than for her to wrap the knit material around me.
“What time is it?” My voice cracked as I managed to get the words out. I noticed that the only light in my bedroom was coming from the muted TV and the light shining in from my living room.
“It’s about 10 PM,” she said. “You’ve been out since we got you home this afternoon. The paramedics checked you out back at the school. You’re okay.”
All of a sudden the terror struck me as if I was reliving the moments that unfolded 12 hours prior.
“My students? The staff? Is everyone okay? Is anyone hurt?”
I heard Tyler’s footsteps make their way from my kitchen to the door frame of my bedroom. I’ve never had more than one person in my apartment before, so I was a little startled at the sight of him at first.
“Hey, Drew. We’re glad you’re okay,” he said. It was a nice gesture, but I didn’t care in that moment.
I needed answers.
Tyler has light brown hair that some would argue is blonde. He has blue eyes and is clean-shaven with a few patch work tattoos on his arms. That night he was wearing an off-white collared shirt opened with a fitted white t-shirt underneath and dark jeans, standing in the door with his broad shoulders and long legs.
“Honey, let’s get you out of those clothes, so you can get some rest. We can talk about it tomorrow.” Lacey turned to face Tyler, “Can you get Drew a glass of water?” She looked back at me before standing up and extending her arm out to me.
Wanting to protest but not having the energy, I grabbed onto her hand.
We walked to my bathroom, and she helped me get out of my clothes and into the shower.
The same shower I stood in that morning, wondering if I should call her.
I let my mind pull down blackness over me again, and the last thing I remember is her closing the glass door as I sunk down into the corner of my shower, bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around myself, feeling the drops of the warm water on my freezing cold skin.
Lacey stayed with me that night and the majority of the next day. The idea of a sleepover with my best friend didn’t have all the fun and excitement it did when we were young.
The next day, I avoided asking her about anything to do with what happened the day before and instead spent the day on my couch with her, watching the Twilight movies and avoiding the elephant in the room. Eventually, she had to head home to get ready for her red-eye flight to visit her parents in Seattle. Her parents moved there to be closer to her grandparents, and she was visiting them with Tyler for the holidays.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” She asked as she was putting on her shoes.
“Yes, Lace. I’m fine,” I reassured her, even if the sentiment didn’t hold much truth. “Thank you for everything.” I hugged her tightly, wishing I could stay in her arms longer but knowing it wasn’t fair for me to ask her to change her holiday plans.
“I was so scared when I got that call, Drew,” she whispered into my hair, her arms tightly wrapped around my shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
When I had to put down an emergency contact, I didn’t even hesitate on putting Lacey down. She is so strong and the best friend I could ask for. Putting my mom or dad down didn’t even cross my mind. Neither of them ever being there for me like Lacey. I have Cal down as my secondary one, but I don’t even know if I put down the right number for him.
“Don’t hesitate to call me or text me if you need anything.”
“I won’t, but seriously you’ve done more than enough.”
“And I’d do it again. Don’t hesitate, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, giving her one more squeeze around her waist before letting her go.
As I closed the door behind her, I took a deep breath and exhaled it out, as if trying to empty myself of all the thoughts I knew were at risk of boiling over at any moment. But, instead of dealing with them, I told myself that I would be okay on my own.
As my heart rate levels, and I breathe out the thoughts I want to bury so deep down they can’t be found, I peel myself out of the sheets and walk towards my door. The initial adrenaline from the knocks has faded, and they no longer sound so loud.
I hope to the higher powers that it isn’t my mom or dad on the other side of the door, making a surprise visit out of obligation. They both called me yesterday making sure I was okay and asking if I needed anything. I told them each that I was fine, and I just needed some time alone as I processed what happened. I let them know I would keep them updated and left it at that. Then, each of them talked to Lacey who assured them of everything I had just said but obviously didn’t mean much to them coming from me.
It couldn’t be Calvin because I don’t think he knows I moved from my last place. Cal texted me saying he heard what happened and wanted to check to see how I was doing. The text was from a number I didn’t have saved, proving that the number I had for him wasn’t even his anymore. It just further proved how little we have talked over the years.
I was surprised he even knew what school I taught at.
I know it’s not Lacey at the door because she would have let herself in with one of my two spare keys, the other key just being in my junk drawer.
I find myself feeling very uneasy as I unlock the door and twist the knob, having no idea who it could be.
As I slowly swing the door open just enough to see who’s on the other side, I see a face that I haven’t seen in what feels like forever.
Reed.
I probably couldn’t hide the shock on my face to see him, of all people, here in front of me. The person who I haven’t heard from in weeks and who hasn’t reached out even once since that November night.
I open the door a little more, revealing myself in the pajamas I haven’t taken off in two days, unwashed hair, dried tears trailing on my face, and skin pale, like I’ve seen a ghost.
I feel this intense rush of emotions as I feel his eyes scan over me, taking in the image before him, most likely not recognizing the person he once knew inside and out.
I feel my vision blur as he just looks at me with tenderness that washed away the tightness in my chest I’ve had since Friday, December 22nd.
The worst day of my life.
He reads the expression on my face as a plea to help my knees from buckling, and he steps forward wrapping his arms around me.
He whispers into my hair, “I’m so sorry, D.”
I let him hold me up, keeping me steady, feeling the warmth of him unfreezing me little by little as the moments pass. I slowly bring my arms up from my sides to cling around his waist, and I feel his lips press against the top of my head as his arms tighten.
Then, without warning, my body stills beneath his touch.
It was as if my body realized that it was being held by a stranger, before my mind could even register.
Reed feels my reaction and pulls away, still in the doorway of my apartment. He looks at me, puzzled at my reaction, almost as if he’s offended, like I hurt his feelings.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, taking a step back from me, separating us just a little bit more.
“What are you doing here?” I ignore his question because I don’t have an answer for what is wrong.
All I know is there is not a lot that seems right at the moment.
As if my words were a slap, Reed looks at me with what was definitely offense.
“What do you mean? I’m here for you. I saw the news and thought you’d be happy to see me.” His words contributed to my feeling of a stranger in my home.
“You could’ve texted or called,” I respond. “I’m not really up for visitors right now.”
Reed scoffs, “Not up for visitors? Is that all I am to you?” He lets out a chuckle as if my response is funny.
As if this is all an inconvenience to him.
“You haven’t reached out in weeks, and now you just-.”
“You haven’t either.” His face was tense. His words were loaded.
I take a deep breath before responding, not in the mood to argue. “Look, I’ve been through a lot these past two days, and I still don’t even know what I’m feeling about…” I couldn’t say the word. Shooting. “About what happened. I just need some time.”
It was like the words I was saying were in a different language.
A language Reed didn’t understand.
“Time? Time for what? Yeah, what happened sucked, but you’re fine. You weren’t one of those teachers he was aft-”
My face must have changed because he stopped talking before he finished the sentence.
“What are you talking about?” I said, my voice uneven.
“Haven’t you seen the news?” His face loosened just a bit, with a slight look of concern.
No. No I haven’t, I think to myself.
I want to tell him that I’ve been too busy sleeping or in a state of fragmentary blackouts, but my face must say it all. Reed takes another step back, finally aware that he is making this situation worse.
“I should probably go,” I wasn’t even listening to the words coming out of his mouth. The only thing on my mind was needing to see what the news was saying about what happened Friday. “Let me know when you–” I shut the door and walk over to my living room. I go to grab the TV remote but can’t bring myself to turn it on.
Do I really want to know?
Yes.
Can I handle finding out alone?
I don’t know.
I put the remote back where it was on the couch and sit down. I think about calling my Lacey, but I don’t want to bother her. The thought of asking Reed to come back to tell me what happened quickly crosses my brain.
No.
Maybe it is too soon to find answers to my questions.
The school sent an email to staff about taking Winter Break to rest and recuperate. The district even gave us an extra two weeks after break to allow everyone to recover from the trauma.
Trauma.
I can’t believe I lived through a trauma.
No, I can’t believe I’m living through a trauma.
For me, this is anything but over.
The district is offering services and recommending places to get help, but I don’t even think I’m there yet.
I think I’m still in a state of shock.
I’m going to give myself some more time before I fill in the blanks and relive the worst day of my life.
Needing to get my mind off all of this, I walk over to my kitchen and bend down to open the cabinet under my sink. I pull out glass cleaner, all-purpose spray, microfiber cloths, and any other cleaning products I have stored away. I stand up, go grab my phone and connect it to my living room speaker to listen to some music.
I sweep the floors, vacuum my area rugs, scrub the shower, wipe down the kitchen surfaces, change my sheets, and load the dishwasher with the few plates and mugs that have been harboring in my sink from when Lacey was still here.
Hopeful that it’s at least early afternoon, I check the time and see it’s only been an hour. Feeling accomplished yet defeated at the same time, I flop onto the couch and close my eyes. I listen to my music playing at a pleasant volume around me, too afraid to let myself be in silence. One of my favorite songs comes on: “All Downhill from Here” by New Found Glory.
The lyrics I know by heart fill my apartment, making me feel a sense of familiarity and comfort, and I let my mind focus on the chorus.
The tightness in my chest from Reed’s surprise visit this morning begins to release, and, for a moment, I can just let myself breathe. That is, until I feel the thoughts I’ve been trying to keep away creep their way into my temporary solace.
I force my eyes open to not let myself go back to those feelings in the classroom. I don’t let my mind show me the tears streaming down faces, or the hands covering the noiseless screams, or the footsteps running down the stairs. I don’t let my mind recall the echoing pops, or the screams across the hall.
I jolt up, getting off the couch as if walking away from it is the same as walking away from the thoughts that were just invading my brain. I tell myself taking a quick shower, brushing my teeth, and putting on clothes for the day will make me feel better, so that’s what I do.
It didn’t work.
I tell myself making something to eat will make me feel better, so I swing open my fridge, and I’m greeted by a half empty bottle of wine, expired orange juice, and leftover taco meat I know I won’t be eating.
It didn’t work either.
I grab the Tupperware of ground beef and chuck the whole thing in the trash, grab my keys, slip on my Vans, and head out to go to the grocery store.
As I’m waiting for the elevator, I’m reminded of Friday morning when I was waiting in this exact spot, thinking my biggest problems were not having enough prep time that morning because I was too busy thinking about the past and spilling coffee all over myself.
How silly are those thoughts now?
The ding of the elevator brings me back to reality, and the doors open. I step into the empty cab and let out a deep sigh.
I push the garage level button and lean back onto the wall opposite the doors.
My mind floods with thoughts of the last time I was in the elevator, and who I was in the elevator with.
Emmett.
How I wish my biggest worries were being too loud when I got ready. How I wish his disapproving eyes on me were the only thing that made me wish I was anywhere else. How I wish he was here, in this elevator, crossing his tattooed arms, stealing glances my way with those warm, rich eyes, helping me forget the last 48 hours.
Wrapped up in my thoughts, I don’t even notice when the elevator pauses at the floor below me.
The doors open, revealing no one waiting to get in.
I don’t think much of it until I arrive in the garage, wishing I was hearing the echoing of footsteps, coming from Vans twice my size.