Don't bide your time cause it is almost over

I know your down and I'll see you around

And I know it hurts but your just getting older

I know you'll win you'll do it once again

The first thing I noticed when I opened the door was Audrey's shoes in the entrance. This set off my curiosity as she was very dutiful in telling me when she was coming and going. The texts I got usually consisted of 'im bored heading out' and a few hours later 'fuck this im going home… you better be quick'. She never once failed to let me know her plans.

Not that we're dating, per se, but 'complicated fuck buddies',which I've learned after the year and a bit we've been living together was as close to dating as she was willing to admit. So when I saw her shoes in a heap at the door, some small alarm bells went off. You may think maybe her phone died… no. Audrey's phone never died. She kept that thing charged all the time.

I closed the door behind me and kicked off my shoes while calling out "I'm back!". The only reply I got was the fridge's compressor kicking in. Moving further into the apartment, I dropped my backpack in it's usual spot beside the entryway closet. I could see the light from the bedroom shining into the hall, but no sounds from that direction. She probably passed out or something I thought to myself, and went into the kitchen. Looking around I saw her purse and phone sitting on the counter. The sight of her phone sitting there made me think to pull out my own; maybe I had simply missed her text.

But no. As plain as day was her last text 'fukin bored going shopping' sent at about 11AM. I looked around the kitchen but saw no bags or boxes; she always left her new purchases in the kitchen so she could show them off, and she never went shopping and came back empty handed. I glanced up at my phone's time: 6:16PM. I stood there for a good 5 minutes staring at my phone trying to come to some conclusion as to what to think of all this.

Before you say anything, I need to explain. As spontaneous as Audrey may appear, she is actually very predictable and structured. If you tell me a time i can tell you with very good precision what she would be doing. She follows a schedule:

9AM - wake up. If there was drinking involved the night before, she'll sit in the bed and do nothing but try to come around. If she's sober, this time will be spent on her phone.

10AM or so - shower and eat. Usually a quiet affair. On most weekdays she feeds herself, on weekends I cook for her (she'd never admit it but she loves my cooking).

11AM - Monday or Wednesday? Shopping and mall crawling. Tuesday, Thursday, or Friday? Work She actually works... I know. She designs clothing for a local shop. Quite well in fact. Weekends are spent watching TV or movies.

7PM - dinner with me. She never misses a meal unless she's sick or somewhat fucked up. Some Sundays she'll eat with Tiffany.

8PM - TV, unless some minor thing earlier in the day pissed her off, then she bitches.

10PM - Sunday, Tuesday, and Friday are at Lusties until 2, then off to bed… fucking is dependent on alcohol consumption. All other nights are getting high and… doing nothing. Again, fucking is dependent.

Even at home there is a fairly rigid structure. She hates breaking from it… it's strange, I know.

A sharp thump from the hallway brings me back into focus. With a final glance at my phone, I decided to go check on it. Most likely just something that was knocked over. As I moved around the corner into the hall I shoved my phone into my pocket. Nothing in the hall seems to have moved, so that really only leaves the bedroom.

"Audrey, what the hell…" I started to say as i rounded into the bedroom, then stopped cold. There, in a heap in the middle of the floor, was Audrey. My heart started racing; she was way more pale than usual, and her breathing was ragged.

"Dicks!" I still, to this day, don't understand why that was what I yelled out as I rushed over to kneel beside her.

She was a complete mess.

Besides her paleness and ragged breathing, she was bleeding profusely from her nose, and from the stains and dried patches had been for some time. I noted in passing (for trying to not let it bother me) that I was kneeling in a puddle of her vomit. The thump was most obviously caused by her falling over a now upended TV table, it's contents now spread across the floor: an old student ID of hers and some off white powder, some of which was also on her face.

I moved into pure panic mode. With far more force than was probably required I turned Audrey onto her side and leaned down to her face. She was conscious and looking back at me with an expression I didn't even know she could make: complete and utter fear, tears spilling down her face and mixing with the blood on the floor. With numb hands I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dropped it. It took 3 tries to pick it up and dial 911. Once I had explained ( more like screamed) the situation I tossed the phone to the side, not even sure if I had ended the call. As I turned around to assess the rest of the room, I felt a cold weight on one of my hands; Audrey had reached up grabbed it.

With a start I immediately squeezed back as hard as I could and held it until I heard the booted feet of the paramedics come into the room. As they maneuvered the stretcher into the room Audrey said something to me that I will never forget, in a tone that will never leave my memories.

"I'm sorry."