to be hurt
to feel lost
to be left out in the dark
The ambulance's horn was blaring, lights flashing as it cut in and out of streets. Summer was clinging to the hospital gurney, looking out the window, anywhere but at Marissa. She couldn't stand to see her like this, bleeding, her face pale, and ... and she looked dead. Summer bit back another sob. An envelope was sticking out of her jacket pocket. She had found it on the kitchen table when she walked in, sitting there in plain view. The usual pile of dirty dishes was gone, the room spotlessly clean.
Summer frowned, walking toward the kitchen table. She dropped her keys and purse on the counter, along with a bag of groceries.
"Marissa?" She called, stuffing the envelope with her name on it into her pocket. She made her way through the kitchen, a feeling of dread seeping into her stomach. Marissa's apartment was never this clean, never this quiet. She sped up, worry gnawing at her. She walked through the living room, her heart beginning to race. Nothing there, but just as spotless as the kitchen. "Marissa?" She called again, panic edging into her voice. Fuck, where was the other girl? God knows what she had done. Summer glanced in the bathroom as she passed. Clean, empty. She stepped into the bedroom, hoping, praying, there was nothing there. What she saw made her stop dead still in the doorway. Her heart froze, terror clamping down on her. Her legs were shaking.
"Coop?" She said quietly, brokenly. She took a step inside, hand on the wall for support. Marissa was lying on the bed, two empty pill bottles on the bedside table. Blood was flowing from her wrists, all over the bed. Her face was pale, lifeless. Summer ran into the room, grabbing Marissa. "Marissa, oh my god. Marissa, wake up, please. Oh god, please." Summer shook the other girl's shoulders, but she didn't react. Looking around the room widly, Summer snatched up the phone, dialing three quick numbers. When someone answered, Summer could barely stutter out a sentence. She grabbed Marissa again, praying that she would wake up, say it was some sort of mistake. But not this, this couldn't be, it had to be something, she couldn't. Oh god, oh my god. "My friend, she won't wake up. She's bleeding-she's bleeding everywhere, ohgod ohgod-"
The ambulance jolted over a bump and Summer looked up as the young paramedic inserted needles into Marissa's arms. Looking down at her own arms, Summer noticed the dried blood stains on her skin. She scrubbed at them viciously with her fingers, trying to get the blood off of her. Marissa's blood. God, there was so much blood. Tears threatened in her eyes and she scrubbed harder. She felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, her scrubbing subsiding, she saw another paramedic offering her a wet cloth. Summer took it, not saying anything and looked down, slowly rubbed away the blood, the frantic from a moment before gone. She looked up at Marissa, her eyes big and scared. Confused.
The lights in the ambulance were glaring, bright and fresh. Summer dropped her head, not able to process anything that was happening. She felt the van squeal to a stop and grasped onto the rails. Quickly, Marissa was pulled out from the ambulance, rushed away on the gurney. Summer stood up slowly, taking the paramedic's hand that was offered to her. She felt so slow, her vision blurred. The paramedic walked her over to a bench and said something that Summer didn't hear. She slumped down on the bench, all thoughts of anything, gone. All she could see were memories. The bed, Marissa, the blood, the empty, clean apartment. Tears spilled onto her cheek, but she didn't feel them. All she felt was the numbing fear that her friend, her best friend, wouldn't be ok.
She had to be ok.
Slowly, Summer pulled the envelope out of her pocket. Her name had been written on the front in Marissa's handwriting,. The edge of the envelope was crinkled, like it had gotten wet. Summer's tears splattered on the envelope, smearing the ink. She wiped the wetness off her face and, with shaky hands, ripped open the envelope. Letting it fall to the ground, she held onto a single sheet of looseleaf paper. The paper was covered in Marissa's handwriting, scratchouts and smeared ink, like she had been crying when she wrote it. Summer held the paper away from her, to keep her own tears off it. Slowly, she began to read.