My Hayley

What did I do? She’s lying on the grass at my feet, and I’m scared out of my wits. I tried so hard to tell her, to get her to understand, and she ran away. So I chased her for miles, and when I saw her I felt so much relief that I wrapped my arms around her. She felt so solid in my arms, and now she’s melted in front of me, and all I can do is scream her name and cry.

I need someone to help me lift her, but no one’s around. The trees sigh ominously around me, as if they blame me as much as I blame myself for letting this happen. I need to get her home, where I can take care of her until she wakes up. She’s not very heavy, but I’m not exactly muscular or strong, and I know this is going to hurt; but what else can I do? So I struggle to lift her, sling her carefully over my shoulder, and stagger all the way back to my house.

By the time we got back, it was way past dark and my mom still wasn’t home. I lay Michelle down on the living room sofa and ran into the kitchen. There was a note explaining why my mom wouldn’t be back until morning and my dad was still on a business trip. I was entirely alone, and I had no clue how to fix this mess I had made.

“Michelle, baby, please wake up!” I kneeled beside her and caressed her stone-cold face. “It’s me baby. It’s Hayley; it’s me,” I sobbed breathlessly, “the girl who loves you. I love you, I’m here, please don’t leave me. Wake up!” Her eyelids fluttered but refused to open. I grabbed her icy hand and held it between mine. It was scratched up and bruised from when she fell. Her hair was matted down with sweat and blood. She must have hit her head. I took a wet cloth and cleaned off her face, feeling my insides churn when I saw the pinkish brown stains and realized why she wasn’t waking up. She hit her head, and needs to sleep it off. I looked closer and saw a scab forming near the top of her head, but it was just a laceration and the skull hadn’t actually cracked. That was good. I hoped she didn’t have a concussion because I had no clue how to heal that. In fact, I had no clue what I was doing.

It was past midnight and I knew her family was probably worried, so I called and made up some excuse, and explained that it was too late to take her home. They reluctantly let her stay. The entire time I cried and lied through my teeth, faking happiness with my voice. Could this get any worse?

When I went back into the living room to check on her, her skin was grey and frigid, her lips a chilling blue. I leaned over to listen to her breathing, and panicked at the short, shallow puffs of air. I turned her gently and discovered the pillow under her head was drenched in blood, her blood, seeping through her ear. How could I have missed that? She was bleeding internally, and she needed to be at a hospital. Now. “Michelle don’t you dare die on me now! Please! I’m sorry!”

My world stopped moving and everything inside me shattered into a barrage of blades, carving out my heart and soul, leaving me emotionless and unresponsive. I saw the phone in the kitchen and reached for it, but my legs wouldn’t budge. My limbs felt like lead and my vision tunneled into a blur of tragic desperation. Her life was draining and it was my fault. I collapsed in a fit of tears and crawled shamefully to the phone, dialing 911 and praying for an answer to come quickly.

“Hello, what’s your emergency?”

“My love,” I sobbed, “is dying….”