Tyler Petrit Isn't Here | ✓

The Abrupt and Chaotic Finale

"Well, no one else is answering it, and it's clearly only annoying you."

"It'll only get louder until you pick it up, old sport."

Suddenly, the room begins spinning. The hedgehog unzips the fancy dining room, revealing it was a cover for an endless black void. She giggles into her palm, and when she removes her hand, her mouth is bloody. "You need to pick up the phone." With barely any effort, I'm pulled into the sea of darkness.

And that's when I wake up.

I fall from the couch, my face smacking the floor with a soft thump.

The credits to an episode of The Animals of Farthing Wood are playing. I groggily look up and see my unfinished blunt put out on the table, next to a half-eaten small store-bought sandwich.

Yep, that'll do it.

I can't even be proud of myself for attempting to eat something, because the phone is ringing.

Oh, God. Fuck.

I pick it up, a tightness in my chest.

It's Dad.

I sure as shit don't open the conversation with a pleasant hello. "How the fuck did you-"

"Y'know how Gio and his mom always have talks on weekends? Yeah, she and Candace talk every day and kinda got the gist of where you lived, so I looked in the phone book and called everyone in the apartment 'til I got you. I called here before and this really rough-voiced lady yelled at me for calling before confirming you lived here."

God damn it, Bianca. "What do you-"

"Anyway," he interrupts again, "Candace is dead and I need you to get the rest of your stuff out of my house."

The edges of my vision start to blur, a sharp ringing sound stabbing the base of my ears. I slide to the floor and put my head against the wall. The spinning of the ceiling fan is the only constant. It is the only thing in the world that makes sense. Of course, it makes sense. When you flip a light switch, the fan will spin. This is in order to create air, maybe to enact a cooling sensation or remove a foul odor.

Of course, a fan spins.

I finally manage to choke out a "...What?"

He sighs. "Candace is dead and I need you to get the rest of your belongings from the house."

"What?"

His annoyance breaks through the surface. "Candace. Died. Overdose, if that's what you wanted to know. Come. Get. Your. Shit."

"What?"

"God damn it, did you suffer brain damage? If your retarded ass doesn't come get the rest of your bullshit out of my house by seven PM, I'm tossing it into the street!"

He hangs up, but I still don't move.

I can't feel anything.

• • •

It takes me a good five minutes to move again. The first thing I do is take my medication, hoping it will clear my head.

I leave the apartment and sit on the sidewalk.

Candace. Dead.

Not emotionally distant, not physically far away.

Dead.

I start to cry. I'm aware I'm in public, so I attempt to muffle the noise.

It doesn't work. That only makes it worse.