Seventeen and Invincible

Mia’s Point of View:

“Ana?” I called climbing up the gloomy, dark, creaky stairs—her home sometimes seemed like it belonged in some sort of horror movie. “Ana, come on, I told you to be ready twenty minutes ago.” I pushed open her bedroom door. The light was off and she was asleep on her bed, and she had in fact been ready to go to the mall. “Ana, wake up,” I shook her.

That was when I let out a bloodcurdling scream.

That was when I freaked out.

“John!” I yelled. It was pointless, he’d waited in the car. “Oh my God, oh my God.” I clumsily dialed the seven digits that I’d memorized and tried to stop shaking.

“Hey, Mia, what’s taking so long? Did she hit the snooze button an extra time again?” he laughed. I stood from the edge of the bed, visibly shaking and trying to breathe. “Mia?”

“I wish, John, come inside. Come upstairs, help me.” My voice cracked. “Please, hurry up.”

“Alright, alright.” I inhaled sharply. What was I supposed to do?

“And call Garrett. No, help me and then call Garrett. Oh my God, John, I don’t know what to do,” I cried. She was covered in blood. The cut was clean, even and exact. She’d done this on purpose. “John,” I cried. I hung up the phone because he was in the doorway.

“What’s going on?”

“Help me get her to the car. I can’t lift her by myself.” The tears and panic were clouding my voice.

“Why? What are…?” I lifted my hand to silence him and show him that it was stained red. “Oh my God.” I nodded in agreement as he shuffled across her room from the doorway, lifting her into his arms in one quick motion. “What happened to her?” he asked, panicked.

“John, nothing happened to her. She did this to herself,” I whispered. I climbed into the backseat because I refused to leave her back there by herself.

“I’m driving. You call Garrett.” I shook my head. That was the last thing I wanted to do. Telling Garrett that Anika had tried to kill herself would be awful.

“John,” my voice cracked.

“Just do it, Mia! Goddamnit.” I reached to grab John’s cell phone from the cup holder—I’d forgotten mine in Ana’s room. “He’s speed dial six, I think.” I nodded, pressing the “6” key and then the “send” key.

“Hey, John, what’s up?” Garrett greeted cheerily from the other end. I wanted to smack him for being so perky and upbeat when she was this upset.

“It’s Mia. Garrett, have you spoken to Anika? When was the last time you spoke to her?” Her pulse was barely there. It was weak and slow and all I knew was that it was bad.

“Two days ago,” he sighed, “we kind of got into a fight. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Garrett, meet John and I at the Emergency Room,” my voice cracked. “She tried to kill herself, Garrett.” He hung up on me and I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. Anika would know.

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John carried her into the E.R. as Garrett sped into the parking lot. John placed her onto a gurney and stepped back, as the doctors and nurses rushed her into a room to do whatever it was that they did. John and I were covered in her blood and when he noticed, that’s when Garrett started crying.

“H-h-ho-how is she?” he coughed out. He sat down on one of the metal chairs, and I sat next to him, rubbing his back like he’d done for me that day at the clinic. I looked up at John worriedly. How was I supposed to tell Garrett that his beloved Anika probably wasn’t going to be okay?

“She—there was a lot of blood,” John said quietly. “There was a lot of blood.”

“Why? Why would she do this? If she needed help I would’ve been there for her. I would have helped her find someone to talk to. I knew it was all getting worse, but she finally told me what was bothering her, and I thought maybe she’d be able to get better, y’know?” he looked up, tears leaking out of his blue eyes that seemed lifeless with the idea of Anika dying. “But then it turned into a fight. It’s all my fault,” he whispered, his voice peaking and cracking. “It’s all my fault. I may as well have taken a gun and shot her. I did this to her. If I’d just done something, anything. I could have made a difference.”

“Garrett, this isn’t your fault.” I said it, but I didn’t entirely believe it. “Gar, if she did this to herself, there’s gotta be something else too. It isn’t just you.” He choked and sniffled and closed his eyes, burying his face in his hands.

“I may as well have just gone to her house and stabbed her; shot her; I may as well have just killed her.”

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Garrett’s Point of View:

Two hours had passed and it really made me wonder exactly what she’d done to herself. What could she have done that would take so long to fix? Unless…unless she was already dead. I was shaking, I was crying—I was breaking down.

Mia had taken to fidgeting and staring at a flyer on the wall. John had begun pacing, but stopped, taking a seat on the floor in the corner. I’d spent a good hour and a half pacing, but my legs started to hurt and I had to sit down. But I deserved the pain. Every fucking ounce of it.

“I’m going to go try to find something out,” Mia said softly, standing up, patting me on the back and walking toward the reception area.

“Garrett,” John said quietly, trying to pull me back to reality. “She’ll be okay.”

“And if she’s not?” I asked flatly. “What if she dies? What if they can’t save her? What if she’s too broken?” I bowed my head and took to staring at my shoes. “I won’t be able to live with myself.”

“How is she?” John asked as Mia re-approached us. Mia shrugged.

“They can’t really tell me much.” She sat next to John on the floor and took his hand. “They want to talk to her parents. I don’t know how to get in touch with them though.”

“She wouldn’t want you to,” I said quickly. “She wouldn’t want her mom here.”

“I said I was her sister. They told me they want to talk to her parents because it’s bad. It’s really bad. It’s really touch and go.” Tears ran down her cheeks but I couldn’t even care at that point. All I could think about was the fact that I should have seen this coming. She had every sign; every indication. She was the poster child for depression, but she played it off so well. To anyone else she seemed so happy.

“I should’ve seen it,” I whispered, more tears finding their way out of my eyes.

“Garrett,” Mia whispered, shaking her head, “promise me that if she dies you won’t do this too. Just promise that you won’t blame yourself. Promise you won’t do the same thing she did.” I shook my head.

“I can’t promise that, Mia.” She shook her head, annoyed at my response. “I can’t lose her.”

“None of us want to lose her, Gar. None of us, trust me,” John whispered.

“You don’t get it!” I yelled. “I can’t lose her. Without her I’m not the same. Without her I have nothing left.” I shook my head and ran my hand down my face.

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Mia’s Point of View:

The minute he said that he couldn’t lose her. The way his voice broke. The way the emotion wrapped around every single word. The way his eyes were lifeless. The minute he said it, it was so obvious that he loved her. The minute he said it, we knew that talking him down from anything, if she died, was impossible.

If we lost Ana, we would lose Garrett too.