“Day 1”
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The ringing of her alarm woke her up. It was that stupid “Apex” sound that Amber had set it to. Tara never told her friend she liked the “Radar” sound better. That was just suicide in itself.
Perhaps suicide was the wrong word since that was already on her mind. She was already swallowed up by the biggest wave of grief in the thirteen years she had been alive, which was saying something as a daughter of Christina Carpenter.
It was Sam’s eighteenth birthday. May nineteenth. A typically sunny and warm day in Woodsboro, with occasional rain spouts. It was undoubtedly Tara’s favorite day of the year. It was a day of joy, with blooming flowers scattered across yards and chirping birds flying overhead.
But this year was different. Instead of waking her sister up by jumping on her, Tara was asleep in an empty bed. A bare empty bed, as it had been stripped of any remnants of her sister. No pillows, tie blankets, or stuffed animals. Even the little stuffed animal bat that Tara had won Sam at that carnival years ago; was all gone. She was sleeping on a cold, empty mattress. Void of her big sister. Her hero.
Sam’s room had been cleaned out. There was no overflowing wastebasket full of Sam’s drawings or a closet full of half-hung sweaters. Even the hairbrush that Sam used to brush out Tara’s hair was gone. It looked like Sam had never lived there.
Tara wasn’t even sure if Sam was real. Had it all been a dream, the last thirteen years of her life? Was Sam an actual human being in her life? Was Tara dreaming again?
If she was, she needed to wake up. Tara sat up, ignoring the kinks in her neck from the balled-up position she had slept in. She rubbed her eyes hard, letting her vision blur and go fuzzy. Perhaps if she rubbed her eyes hard enough, Sam would be in front of her, scolding her for touching her eyes too much. Then she would reach out, arms outstretched, to pick Tara up and swing her around. She would kiss her baby sister all over her face, tickling her as she did so. Tara could smell that lavender shampoo that Sam loved so much. She could rest her chin against Sam’s shoulder. All would be right in the world.
Instead, once she opened her eyes, blinking to refocus, finding nobody there. She felt her breathing grow rapid, clutching at her chest. Oh god. Her lungs were going to collapse. Sam was gone. She wasn’t here to help her. Tara was alone. Forgotten. Thrown to the side.
Wheezing, she got up on shaky legs, her phone tumbling off her lap, clattering to the floor. She threw her hand out mindlessly to feel for the wall but missed and fell forward. She hit the ground hard, her knees digging into the bare hardwood floors. That was going to bruise. Her head was spinning. Her breathing became more shallow. What did Sam say to do if she was having an attack alone?
Breathe through your nose, find your inhaler, and call somebody. Or was it the other way around? Her vision was becoming blurry, and her lungs shot. Her chest felt like it was on fire, flames licking the dry skin of her lungs. She coughed, a hand rubbing her chest, trying to soothe the pain. Where was Sam? Where did she go? How could she leave her?
“Sam,” she gasped, tasting blood on her tongue. She let herself crumple forward, her chest over her knees, her forehead touching the floor. Her free hand clawed at the wood, hoping somebody could hear her.
But who would hear her? Sam was gone. Her father was long gone. Christina Carpenter was probably fisting a bottle of Merlot in the kitchen. This would be the end.
Good. She was at peace with this death. It was a long, painful way to go. It’s what she deserved for driving so many people away. Her father left, her sister fled, and her mother never cared long enough to stay. It was her fate to die slowly and painfully in the empty shell of her big sister’s room. There was no reason for her to keep going. She was destined to be alone.
She rolled to her side, letting her cheek kiss the cool hardwood floors. Her face was wet. She doesn’t remember crying. Oh well. It would be a puddle that would dry up on its own. She gasped out, staring into the empty hallway. Her vision was fuzzy, grainy almost. Black and white spots danced across her eyes, with little neon colors flashing each time she blinked.
Just as she took a long, shuddering breath, she saw a pair of shoes hesitantly walking across the floor. Black chucks. There were embroidered flowers around the logo. Black and white roses. Amber’s shoes.
Was Tara underwater? Everything sounded muffled. She could barely hear the thuds of amber frantically running toward her crumpled body. Blinking, she felt Amber’s cold hand touch her cheek. Who was yelling her name? Was that Sam?
“Sammy,” she breathed, coughing a bit. Her big sister was back. Tara knew she couldn’t be gone for long. Tara was worthy of her. She came back.
She closed her eyes, letting her big sister pick her up. Her head lolled back, supported by the bicep of Sam. She felt her body hit the mattress, swallowed up by the softness of it. Sam tilted her head back for whatever reason.
She was safe now. It was okay to sleep. She was so tired. Her eyelids were so heavy. Why was she being shaken? Something was shoved into her mouth. Her inhaler.
“Tara, eyes open! Take a deep breath, please!” Sam said, panic clearly in her tone.
Why was Sammy panicking? She was safe. She was with her big sister. She breathed, feeling the medicine coat the back of her throat. She swallowed, feeling the swelling in her lungs loosens. It felt good.
“One more time. Eyes open, look at me! One more time!”.
“Okay, Sammy,” she mumbled, taking another breath in. The medicine tasted like static. She could feel her limbs loosen up, the blood running through her body again. She blinked, opening her eyes. Once the black and white fuzzies passed through, her smile fell, seeing the person before her.
“Amber?”
Her best friend sighed, wiping a stray tear from her eye. “Yes, it’s me. Jesus Christ, you scared me, Tara. What happened? Why didn’t you have your inhaler on you? What’s the matter with you?” she barked, not even batting an eye as Tara flinched at her tone.
Tara looked around in confusion, sitting up quickly. Immediate spots filled her eyes, and she fell back, Amber catching her head before she hit the wall.
“Careful! I just resuscitated your ass. You could at least be a little more careful,” she scolded, laying Tara’s head back down. “Where’s Sam?” she asked, taking in the empty room around her. It wasn't lost on her friend that they were in Sam’s room and that it was empty. Though her best friend and big sister fought most of the time, Amber still knew this room well enough.
Tara closed her eyes shut, tears burning against her efforts. “I don’t know, Amber. She’s gone,”.
“She’s actually gone.”
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