REMEMBER // Calum Hood

Forty four // 5:05

(I recommend you listen to 505 - Arctic Monkeys for this chapter)

I wake up alone in bed. The messy white sheets caress my skin as a remind of the boy that should be laying next to me. But his side is empty, giving me a glimse of the next 3 months. Waking up alone shouldn't feel like such an arduous job but my mom has always said that is easy getting used to nice things.

The sun hasn't risen yet. It's still dark outside and the house is completely silent, except from the sound of the rain hitting the window glass. I groggily reach for my phone on the bedside table to check the hour. 5:04 a.m. I blink a few times trying to focus my dimmish vision because it can't be true.

5:04 a.m.

No.

The car would be here at 5a.m. to drive Calum to the airport. I jolt up from bed and immediately scan the room, looking for any sign of him. A sign that Calum is still in the house. He has to be.

5:05 a.m.

His phone is not on the nightstand where he usually leaves it to charge during the night. No shoes by the door, an habit of his that I adopted myself. His wallet and the pack of cigarettes aren't next to the TV and his suitcase - the one I helped him pack the night before - is nowhere to be found.

No.

He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye. He wouldn't do this.

5:07 a.m.

Rushing down the stairs, I almost trip on Duke, who is laying in the middle of the long corridor. I've never noticed this corridor had so many doors, making Calum's house look more like a maze than a home. I open every single one of them calling out his name but silence is my only company here. I drag my feet down the stairs with some effort and as much as I try to run, I seem to be moving in slow motion. Once downstairs, I take a deep breath hoping to smell Calum's cooking but my senses don't detect a thing. Not his scrambled eggs, not the homemade pancakes or the freshly stirred coffee.
It makes me a little nauseous and think I might throw up at any minute now. Praying to find Calum standing shirtless by the stove cooking us breakfast, I enter the lifeless kitchen.

No. Please no.

5:12 a.m.

I stare at the kitchen clock unable to move. The house is silent and dark, empty just like my insides. I don't notice I'm crying until the sour taste of my tears reach my mouth.

You're too late, Georgia. He's gone.

I grab myself a glass of water as an attempt to calm myself down. I gulp down the liquid all at once, not even stopping to breathe. A note sits on the kitchen counter next to the glass, displaying Calum's hurried writing. I've seen his messy handwriting only once or twice but it's as unmistabakle as if I've seen it my whole life. I grab the paper in my shaky hands trying to read what it says, but the tears get in the way making it ten times harder. In between sobs, my blurry vision finally gets to decifer the note.

See you in three months Xx

5:18 a.m.

He did it. Calum left without saying goodbye.