Status: for The Magic is Music contest
Scream for Me
One Week
Sitting down on the bed, I picked up the calendar and crossed off another day. Seven days. It’s been one week and I haven't heard from her; I just hope that she's alright. The petty fight that we had, I just hope that it didn't cause more than us not talking. Five days, and I'm still counting. She told me to come back when I was ready to say I was sorry. Pen scratches against paper and, I’m still remembering when I realized I'm at fault but couldn't tell her.
I sat in front of the T.V. watching our favorite movie, eating our favorite food. I know; it’s cheesy right? But... it wasn't the same without her here. Every time I heard the sirens and I ran to the window in desperate hopes that wasn't her they were after. When it was safe to say it was not you, I sat back and let out a breath that i did not know I was holding. Two days till I say I'm sorry.
I passed back and forth shouting at myself, I never was one who could sit and wait. Why was she so stubborn? Why couldn’t she just call? I groaned and sat back; waiting for what seemed like another week and I thought that I would never see her again. I went to her place last night. She wasn't there. Why? She used to never leave unless she was with me and the place looked nearly abandoned. The lawn was trampled and the withered flower bed looked even more dead than usual. Fear crept through my mind as a feeling that something dreadful had happened froze my spine. I'm sorry.
Back at home the phone rang and I ran to grab it. A shrill secretary’s voice sounded on the other side of the line. “Is this a Mr. Aaron Conor?”
“Yes, this is Mr. Conor.” I replied eagerly.
“Sorry to disturb you sir but this is St. Michael’s Psych Hospital downtown. We have a young lady here by the name Miss Willow Regan with your name and number listed as her emergency contact. I’m afraid there has been an incident and we’re going to require your assistance. I need you to come and pick her up down here.”
I laughed sadly and put my hand over my eyes, I slumping against the wall as I clutched the phone like it was my lifeline in a sea of insecurity. I had to remind myself to keep it together; for her. At least now I knew where she was. “C-can I speak to her?”
As she came to the phone I nearly started crying with relief at her slurred, sedated voice. She was barely aware of what was going on and I found myself praying she didn’t cause too much trouble when they had to bring me in. Somehow I tightened the grip, making my hand turn white and begin to shake and tingle. I gave a ragged sigh and said, "I'm sorry, I want to be your friend, I want to be your hero; I…I want to be your anchor again.”
I sat in front of the T.V. watching our favorite movie, eating our favorite food. I know; it’s cheesy right? But... it wasn't the same without her here. Every time I heard the sirens and I ran to the window in desperate hopes that wasn't her they were after. When it was safe to say it was not you, I sat back and let out a breath that i did not know I was holding. Two days till I say I'm sorry.
I passed back and forth shouting at myself, I never was one who could sit and wait. Why was she so stubborn? Why couldn’t she just call? I groaned and sat back; waiting for what seemed like another week and I thought that I would never see her again. I went to her place last night. She wasn't there. Why? She used to never leave unless she was with me and the place looked nearly abandoned. The lawn was trampled and the withered flower bed looked even more dead than usual. Fear crept through my mind as a feeling that something dreadful had happened froze my spine. I'm sorry.
Back at home the phone rang and I ran to grab it. A shrill secretary’s voice sounded on the other side of the line. “Is this a Mr. Aaron Conor?”
“Yes, this is Mr. Conor.” I replied eagerly.
“Sorry to disturb you sir but this is St. Michael’s Psych Hospital downtown. We have a young lady here by the name Miss Willow Regan with your name and number listed as her emergency contact. I’m afraid there has been an incident and we’re going to require your assistance. I need you to come and pick her up down here.”
I laughed sadly and put my hand over my eyes, I slumping against the wall as I clutched the phone like it was my lifeline in a sea of insecurity. I had to remind myself to keep it together; for her. At least now I knew where she was. “C-can I speak to her?”
As she came to the phone I nearly started crying with relief at her slurred, sedated voice. She was barely aware of what was going on and I found myself praying she didn’t cause too much trouble when they had to bring me in. Somehow I tightened the grip, making my hand turn white and begin to shake and tingle. I gave a ragged sigh and said, "I'm sorry, I want to be your friend, I want to be your hero; I…I want to be your anchor again.”