Naia's POV
I reread the phone number, over and over again. By the time we got home, I had it memorized and could recite it off the top of my head if someone asked me to. Not that anyone would, I hadn't told Gabby and Matt that I had Jane's parents' phone number. I don't know why I didn't tell them since they weren't going to force me to call unless I was ready.
Which I wasn't.
Who was I kidding, saying I was fine. I had watched someone shoot a little girl in the back of the head and that girl had died in my arms. She took her last breath in my lap and I couldn't save her. I hadn't saved her. Maybe I thought I could fool myself. Repeat it enough that my brain could think it was true. Maybe if I pretended everything was okay, it would be.
"Wow, it's almost noon," Gabby commented, looking at the clock. "Are you hungry?"
I shook my head, "No, not really."
"Alright," Gabby replied gently., "Just tell me when you're hungry."
I nodded, "I think I'm going to go and lay down for a bit."
Before anybody could say or ask anything, I turned around and headed to my room and closed the door behind me. I hadn't slept well last night. Every time I would close my eyes, all I could see was Jane dying in my arms. When I did fall asleep, my dreams were tainted by twisted variations of what happened. They seemed so real that even now, I had to think to remember what actually happened. A shiver of fright ran through be briefly as I feared I was losing my mind. Perhaps this whole fooling myself was working too well.
I put the slip of paper on my desk before settling down on my bed. The covers were still unmade from last night but I didn't feel like making them. It felt strange to be in bed with jeans on, normally, I went to sleep in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. I laid there, looking up at the ceiling, trying to not think of anything.
A knock on the door made me look over and I had a feeling it was Gabby.
"Come in," I said and the door opened.
I was right, it was Gabby. She came over and sat down at the foot of the bed.
"Do you feel alright?" Gabby asked, leaning over and laying her palm across my forehead. "You're not sick are you?" It made me feel good inside, knowing how much she cared about me. I know I'd been living with Matt and Gabby for a while but whenever they showed their affection for me, it still gave me a strange warm feeling.
I shook my head, "No, I'm okay." That's right. I'm okay.
Gabby nodded and scooted closer to me. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
"Talk about what?" I asked. I was trying so hard to not think about what happened. As hard as it was, it was also easier. I was okay. I just had to keep telling myself that.
"Naia," Gabby whispered but I shook my head again.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, avoiding eye contact.
Neither of us said anything for the next few minutes before Gabby finally stood up.
"I'll let you rest then," She said.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
Gabby smoothed back my hair, "No, no, don't be sorry."
I nodded slowly and Gabby left the room, closing the door. Returning my gaze to the ceiling, I tried to push all the thoughts out of my head but failed. Instead, I ended up replaying what happened, over and over again, trying to figure out what went wrong. It didn't make sense to me. Why was Jane dead? She was only eight and had a whole life ahead of her. I felt guilty. Like I had robbed that future from Jane, even though I wasn't the one who pulled the trigger.
I closed my eyes, trying to imagine what kind of life Jane could have had. Maybe she would have gotten married. Maybe she would decide not to. Maybe she would have kids. Maybe she'd travel the world. Whatever it was, I knew it was all gone. Jane was dead, but I was alive. I was okay.
Sitting up, I reached over and took the slip of paper off of my desk. I reread the phone number even though I already knew what it was. Shaking my head, I crumpled the paper and chucked it at the window. I watched it ping off of it and fall to the ground but made no effort to go and pick it up.
Instead, I laid back down on my bed and squeezed my eyes shut, willing the memory to go away and never come back. When it didn't work, I sighed and retreated to the floor where I curled up into a ball and pulled the jacket over my body. I was okay.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, "I'm sorry."
I knew there was no one in the room. I knew that no one could hear me. But that didn't matter. The person that my apology was directed to wasn't here and would never be.
Tears started streaming down my cheeks and I hastily wiped them away, shaking my head.
"I'm so sorry," I sobbed into the jacket, letting the smell of blood overwhelm my nose.
I wasn't okay.