Never There

“I’m heading out Mom. I’ll be back in about an hour,” I shouted, standing by the front door and slipping on my sneakers. Even though Mom was way back in the yard, she would hear me. The hallways amplified everything to be several times louder than it originally started out as.

I heard a faint “Be safe!” and stepped outside.

I was just heading to the local park, so that I could do my homework in peace. I had three brothers and three sisters, all younger than me. I was the only one in high school, two grades of Emma, the second oldest child. She was in eighth grade. Then it all goes down my grade. Connor was in seventh grade, Shawnee in sixth, Marcus in fifth, Nathan in fourth, and Polly was in the third grade, and the youngest. The elementary school would be let out in just a few minutes, and the middle school in about an hour.

I held my bookbag on my shoulder, shoved my other hand in my hoodie pocket, and stalked off. I kept my head down, looking up only to cross the road. Nobody bothered me.
At last, I saw the park. I bee-lined immediately to the bench I always sat at. Once there, I opened my bag and dug out my monstrous pile of homework.

I had made it about halfway through the pile when I heard a voice.

“Need any help?”

I looked up, slightly startled. Then I let out a sigh of relief. It was only Dylan.

Dylan and I had been best friends for as long as either of us could remember. We were born in the very same hospital, but about twenty minutes apart. He had been born first. Or, at least that’s what he had told me, and I never saw any reason not to believe him.

He was about five feet and eleven inches tall, with the darkest of hair and the brightest blue of eyes. He had that funny way of smiling at you like he knew what was going on in your life, and you never even had to utter a word. He kind of freaked me out every time he did that. It wasn’t something you could get used to.

I half-smiled up at him. “Nah. I’m good.”

He picked up my unfinished pile of homework and sat down.

We were quiet for about a half of an hour, Dylan handing me new assignments as soon as I had finished one. This was entirely normal for us. We did this just about everyday.
“Thanks.” I smiled as I put all of my papers into a folder and into my bag.

As I zipped up the bag, Dylan leaned back on the bench, crossing his arms behind his head and stretching his legs out. “So. Whatcha wanna do now?”

“Why don’t we go ahead and walk to Bresler’s?” I offered. Bresler’s was just about a mile away, and it was my favorite ice cream shop. Dylan never got anything there.

“If you want.” He shrugged and got up.

We walked out of the park, following the signs to downtown. But we had done this so many times that we rarely even looked at the signs anymore.

Everything was going as it usually does, us just walking and talking about whatever popped into our heads.

But there were so many things we couldn’t talk about. I couldn’t tell him that I never had any friends besides him. It’d be too embarrassing. And I couldn’t—WOULDN’T—tell him I’d been in love with him since the fourth grade. That would just ruin everything we had.

I pulled back my long auburn hair into a ponytail, and the waves ended up as one large sausage curl. It was really windy out today.

Just as we were about to cross the last crosswalk that led directly to Bresler’s, it happened.
We approached the walk, everything perfectly fine.

“Ow…”

I looked at Dylan. He was clutching his arm, red seeping through his fingers.

“Sit down,” I told him, backing him up and onto the bench directly behind us.

I sat down next to him. “Lemme see.”

He shook his head. His face was paling rapidly.

I looked around. There was no one around, wither walking or driving. Something was wrong.

I looked back at Dylan. “Dylan. Don’t be stupid. Let me see.”

He closed his eyes and winced. He kept a firm grip on his forearm. I moved closer, my leg touching his. He gasped, causing me to immediately back away. I looked down, and my pant leg was now stained with blood. Dylan’s leg had opened up and begun bleeding profusely.

“What’s happening?!” I muttered frantically. I was terrified. How was Dylan getting all of these cuts? WHY was this happening?!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I knew this day would come.

Obviously I didn’t tell her. She would’ve freaked out on me.

Sometimes I wished she’d just listen to me. I had given her many hints about this happening. The old newspaper articles, the way I tensed up every time we made it to that crosswalk…

History repeats itself. Always has. My life has been on repeat for hundreds of years now, always ending on May 5, 16 years after I was ‘born.’

Everytime I ‘died,’ I was immediately ‘born’ into a new family. It was always a family in the town I had originally died in, but they never knew. Hardly anyone ever knew about me.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He died. Right there in my arms.

I was covered in his blood and my tears. He had been my best friend, the one that I dreamed about being with for my entire life.

Then he disappeared. Not just spiritually, but physically. He was gone…he disappeared into thin air!! He couldn’t have just gotten up and left. I had just watched him die!!

I looked around the area. Not a single person was there, dead or alive.

I ran home, tears pouring down my face, stained red from Dylan’s blood. My heavy bag kept banging against my legs, otherwise I would’ve made it home quicker.

I ran up to my room and slammed the door. Then I crumbled.

He was gone. My best friend was gone.

I heard some one rapping on my door. “Katie? Hon? You okay?”

I took a deep breath. “Yeah, Mom. I’m fine.

It came out less steady than I had hoped.

“Katie? Open the door please.”

My jaw dropped. I wiped away the tears, and noticed the blood all over me. She was going to think I murdered someone!

I took a deep breath and unlatched my door. “Yes?”

“Oh, honey! What’s wrong?” She took me into her arms and squeezed me against her, paying no attention to the fact that I was smeared with Dylan’s DNA.

The tears began flowing again. “H-he’s g-gone!” I sobbed, choking.

“What? Who’s gone?”

“D-dylan! H-he’s dead!” My voice sounded strangled, like it had a hard time coming out.

She pulled me away at arm’s length. “Wasn’t he your imaginary friend, sweetie?”

I stumbled back. Dylan? Imaginary?!

I looked at her, pure disbelief scrawled across my face. “N-no!! He was real!”

“Sweetie…I know sometimes when you have an imagination like yours, it’s possible to believe that a made up friend of yours is real, but really…I think you’re being irrational…” She looked around nervously.

“Irrational?!” I screamed. “How am I being IRRATIONAL?! HE. WAS. REAL!!”

She stepped back, startled. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

I jabbed my finger at my clothes. “Do you NOT see this?! I’m covered in BLOOD!! DYLAN’S blood!!!”

At that, she ran off downstairs and into her room. I could hear the door slam.

I looked down at the brochure. St. Barbara’s Facility.

My parents thought that I was crazy. But Dylan was REAL. He just HAD to be!!

I found it the day after he had died. It was hidden under my parent’s mattress, but not very well. They should have made sure they the entire thing was under the mattress, and not just most of it.

I flipped through it again. St. Barbara’s was a facility for the ‘mentally unstable.’ Today, there was something different about the pamphlet. In the bottom right hand corner of the very last page was a note, in my mother’s handwriting.
May 9th, 9:30 am

Tomorrow.

It’s 9:30 in the morning. And they’re here.

I looked back at my house. I wouldn’t see it again for a while. I saw each of my brothers and sisters, and my parents. I hated them for this. And I always will.

I turned around and climbed into the white van. The picture on the side had a large building on it, and written in curly letters was ‘St. Barbara’s.’