Chapter 1 #2
Another quest within his game, I assume. A quest where if he loses focus, his whole army would all die. You would think he was actually dying from the way he yells at the screen when he dies in one of these quests.
It isn’t until I cut the burger in half and place it in front of him that he says, “Hey, baby.” Smiling wide, picking it up to take the first bite, he adds, “I brought you your favorite T-shirt of mine. Left it on the bed for you.”
His band tee of the Killers that I clung to whenever I would sleepover at his place. I think I wore it more than him.
“Thanks, babe,” I say, barely holding my eyes open. He tries to let out a response, but his words are muffled by the chewing.
“Dammit, Charlotte. You forgot to ask for no pickles.” He picks them off slowly before taking a few bites and returning to his game. I watch him for a few moments, repeating my speech in my head.
As he takes another bite, I see him kill yet another zombie. The intensity grows behind his eyes as he screams at his buddies for leaving him hanging.
Kissing his forehead, I gather the last bit of energy I have from the floor. I mumble the words, “I know we had plans tonight, but I think I am going to go to bed. Today was longer than I thought and I’m beat.”
Aidan reaches for another fry on the plate. “Didn’t you say you were going to leave early?”
With a deep exhale, I mention, “I tried.”
“It’s okay, Charlotte. Go to bed. We have the whole weekend.” Giving a quick half smile, his eyes remain glued to the screen, only slipping for a fraction of a second to grab a fry from his plate.
As I am a few feet away, he yells, “You mentioned you wanted to ask me something today?”
“Yeah,” I say too quickly. “I meant to ask you if you liked pickles on your burger. I couldn’t remember…”
He studies me from across the room a moment longer, narrowing his eyes. Like he knows that isn’t the question I wanted to ask him tonight.
“Oh.” He nods slowly. “Yeah. I don’t.”
I purse my lips tightly together, pulling myself away from him on the carpet.
“You can have my burger too. I’ll leave it covered on the counter.”
Aidan doesn’t say anything. I hear loud button smashing as I walk away, gliding to my soft, warm bed waiting for me.
The next three hours before I actually fall asleep will be reserved for contemplating my life’s existence and why I didn’t ask him the real question—until then, I’ll just stare at the ceiling until my eyes give out.
Before my eyes can drift off into sleep, my catatonic gaze catches a bright, blazing red spot. A red spot that is only growing bigger and brighter the longer I look at it. I blink slowly, giving myself a moment to try to wrap my head around what I am looking at.
Pushing myself off the bed, the redness morphs into the rise and fall of flames, an image pouring through my bedroom window, from my neighbor’s apartment in the building next to me.
“What the hell is that?” I whisper to myself. The flames only grew higher and higher. My eyes are unable to look away from the sight. A window I never bothered to look through before is now consumed by destruction.
From head to toe, I am immobile. The red shoots up faster, this time making an ear-piercing, crackling sound. My whole body jumps backward. My fingertips hover over the numbers 9-1-1 before I finally press the green call button.
“Hi, my name is Charlotte Tate, and…” Just for a second, I see a young woman’s face in the windowpane.
She’s hanging onto the window. Her jet-black, wavy hair and hazel-brown eyes are unfamiliar and terrifying; her hair pinned back, with a blue necklace hanging around her neck.
I can’t do anything, my whole body is frozen in place, almost feeling the heat wrap around my own neck.
I blink for a moment and when I open my eyes, she is no longer there; her image slipping through my thoughts faster than it had entered it. The only thing that remains is the imprint of her small fingers on the glass.
“Ms. Tate, how may I assist you today?” the operator pleads.
I don’t answer. I don’t know how to…
The phone drops out of my hands as I grab the first coat I see in my closet.
I bolt through my apartment, leaving Aidan still in front of the screen. A surge of energy hits me as I leap to the front door, rushing out and toward the scene. I hear a muted, “Is everything okay—” before it slammed completely shut.
As I rush down the stairs, I see the swarm of neighbors by the nearby building. My whole body vibrates, knowing something is very wrong.
In the middle of the bustle of people, I start to hear the whispers of a name. My ears perk up as I try to cozy up to another person talking about her.
A group of people unwillingly move as first responders try to make their way through.
“Make way!” a worker screams, and instantly there is a gap in the circle we are in. A line of firefighters pushes past us, rushing up towards her floor.
I look to the right of me and see the sweet old lady standing beside me who has been my friend since I moved into the complex. She looks frightened as the fire chief comes up to address her. “I’m sorry, Ms. Silva.”
All the dots connect as I tread lightly, trying to figure out if I should say something.
The smog from the top floor gets so unbearable that we all struggle to breathe.
Ms. Silva doesn’t seem to notice the smog or the coughing, because in one very quick motion, she is hysterically crying.
This sweet, four-foot-eleven woman hugs me and is crying into my shoulder.
The kind of hug that locks in place and forces you to be present with the person.
I remain silent for a while, saying the words “I’m sorry” a few times. For a while, we just stand there, staring at the building.
I cross my fingers beside me, hoping to see another person carried from the building. As time passes, nobody exits.
The crowd is eventually forced to leave the scene. A scene where all this woman’s memories were shrunken to a black, shriveled mess.
My sweatshirt still smells like smoke, my shoulder damp from Ms. Silva’s tears. Exiting the crowd, I take my time going back home.
When I unlock my apartment door, Aidan’s game is no longer playing on the screen.
“Are you okay?”
I don’t know how to answer that. How do you explain what it’s like to watch someone die? How do you explain the way her hands pressed against the glass before she disappeared? When they confirmed she was only nineteen…
I bite my lower lip and say the only thing I can muster up the strength to say. “Yeah. I’m good. I just went out to get some fresh air.”
He looks at me for a long, hard second before kissing my forehead.
“Are you sure?” he questions as I tip my head to the ground, noticing the chipped nail polish on my feet.
“Yes. Only tired.”
“You’re right, we should get to bed. I have a huge meeting tomorrow morning with Davis to go over potential investments we can look into. And you wake up at six a.m.…”
Aidan leans over to kiss me on the forehead before whispering “I love you” in my ear.
All I can think about is her innocent face begging, pleading the words: This can’t be it. Not now.