After She Fell (Before I Fall, Lauren Oliver FanFiction)

After

After

I don't remember changing out of my rain-drenched clothes. I don't remember grabbing all the extra blankets down from the closets and handing them to Lindsey, Elody, and Ally who were huddled together on the floor. Pale and broken looking. I couldn't look at them, so I didn't.

I vaguely remember going into the kitchen and making hot chocolate. The real kind, homemade with milk, just like my mother taught me so many years ago. The motions feel mechanical and it when I pour the milk my body's shaking so bad that most of it spills all over the counter, splashes on the floor and soaks into my socks. I ignore it and repeat the process as many times as I need to until it's done. It seems to help. If I concentrate on something normal, something warm and comforting, something productive, then maybe everything will go back to normal too. When I grab four mugs down and pour the hot liquid into each one, using both hands in an awkward effort to keep them steady, I don't let myself dwell on the fact that I should be grabbing five.

I bring the hot chocolate to the girls, still shaking and huddled together under blankets, wearing oversized, mismatched clothes from whichever closet in the house. I place the mugs down next to them, Elody and Ally both wrap their hands around the warm glasses, but Lindsey just stares blankly, like she can't even see what's in front of her. None of them take a sip.

I make a point of checking the fire before I grab three blankets from the pile and wrap them around myself. I plop in front of the fireplace, sitting so my back is to the girls and I'm a good twenty feet away from them.

Once I sit down my body feels incredibly heavy, like my blood has turned to lead and is slowly settling, pulling at all my joints and muscles and bones. Weighing me down like I'm walking through quicksand. I feel my shoulders drop and I let my head fall forward. It's then that I realize how cold I still am, pinpricks of pain, like needles, are just starting to shoot through my hands and feet. My hair is still dripping and feels heavy with what I imagine are tiny ice crystals. I pull the blankets tighter around me, grasping my warm mug as I scoot a little closer to the fire. First, concentrate on getting warm I tell myself, in a pathetic attempt to fight the inevitable.

And then someone screams.

I flinch so hard that most of the hot chocolate in the mug I'd been holding splashes onto the blankets. Up until that point, everyone has been relatively silent. The scream comes again, and I turn my head toward the sound. It's Lindsay. She has her head tucked between her knees, with her arms loosely wrapped around her legs, her damp hair hanging down like blinds. She screams again, and the horrible sound seems to echo through the house, bouncing through the empty rooms, piercing everything. It's then that I realize she's sobbing. Crying so hard that each sob sounds like a scream. Ally and Elody curl against her, before falling into themselves. Their voices seem to blend until it sounds like the house itself is crying. The sounds set every nerve in my body on edge, my muscles feel like they could snap with tension, and I can feel the hairs on the back of neck rising like hackles.

For a second, I feel like I should go to them. Like I should wrap my arms around them and try to give them some comfort, even if we all know that there's no support anyone can give. Not now. Maybe not ever. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think hero, and I forget how to breathe for a second.

I can't get myself to move over to them. I can't even look at them. They're not my friends, and even though we have this horrible moment in common, I don't feel like I can bridge the distance between us right now. Lindsey screams again, or maybe it was someone else, I can't tell their voices apart. I almost want to tell them to shut up or to leave. But I don't. The house would seem to empty if I was here alone. I'm glad their parents let them stay since I can't decide if alone is what I want. But, I also can't listen to that sound. I push my mug aside, pull my knees up to my chest, bury my head between my legs, and press the heels of my hands as hard as I can against my ears. Desperate to block out the grief that sounds too much like the static in my head.