Before this chapter starts, I'd like to recognize @ CouldntThink_OfOne. They've been the biggest supporter of this story for a while now, and I just know that these next three chapters will break their heart. Sorry, not sorry. Buckle up, and grab the tissues.

~Saturday February 5th~

I sit next to a young, beautiful girl laying in a pristine white bed. Her golden hair splays out on the pillow, framing the soft skin on her face. Her eyes look up at me, and I am taken away by their beautiful bright blue hue. Her plump, light pink lips pull into a small smile as I look back at her. My hand is holding hers, my thumb gently gliding over her knuckles. I feel my own smile tugging my cheeks back.

But something's off.

There are tears in my eyes, threatening to spill over. My lips quake as they grimace and try to conceal a sob. My hand is shaking as I clasp onto her brittle fingers. Her lips are cracked and faded, and covered by a clear mask which steam collects on every other second. Her eyes are barely blue anymore, the gray that was once just a tint has taken over. Her hair has turned from gold, to straw, to nothing at all. She is young. But she is laying in a hospital bed.

"I'm ready now," Emma says, glancing at her mother who sits adjacent to me, holding her other hand. I watch as the rest of the room moves in slow motion. A nurse walks up to Emma and injects more morphine into her arm. Our friends hug each other as they say their final loving words. Her family members fight back tears as they speak as well. But I can't hear what they're saying. Emma looks at me, and time finally resumes its normal speed.

"Goodbye Theresa. Thank you. For being my best friend."

I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to get up and run out of this room and out of this hospital and away from everyone and everything and never ever come back. I want to pretend this isn't real. But it is.

My eyes are frozen on the twelve-year-old girl in front of me as she dies, my hand still held in her own which grows colder and colder as the seconds pass by.

The room spins until blackness starts to seep into the corners of my vision. I beg the blackness to take me away too and it begins to do so, the circle of light getting smaller and smaller until the only thing I can see is Emma's face. Suddenly all the blackness disappears making me feel dizzy, and Emma opens her eyes. But they aren't blue anymore. They're light brown.

I blink for the first time in what feels like hours and when my eyes open again Emma's body is gone. Instead, a sixteen-year-old girl with caramel brown hair lays in Emma's bed. Her body is nothing but a frail skeleton covered in a thin layer of pale, cracked skin. Her eyes meet mine, and I'm frozen again.

"Theresa!" Riley's voice screams, making my ears ring. My eyes water, but I can't move or make a sound. "Theresa! Save me!" I can't breathe. "Can't you see?!" I can't move. I can't breathe. "Can't you see I'm dying?! Save me!" I'm dizzy, the world is spinning but Riley is still in perfect focus. "Don't forget about me! Theresa!"

I black out, and when I open my eyes, I'm in my room.

I sit straight up, gasping for a breath of air and pulling at my comforter, looking, looking, looking, for what? I clutch onto my own chest and realize I've finally found it: someone to cling to. Someone's shoulder to cry on. Myself. My gasps barely have the chance to turn to breaths before they're sobs. I let my shoulders release from beneath my ears and curl forward to my sternum. My head falls forward and my hands catch my face just in time, elbows digging into thighs.

I can move again. So I take up the cherishable opportunity by crying.

I cry until my cheeks hurt from rubbing the tears away and my throat scratches every time I swallow. I cry until my mind feels numb, but my heart feels just as heavy as before.

I slowly lift my head up and move my hair out of my face, sniffling and rubbing who-knows-what from underneath my nose. Looking around my room, the darkness frightens me, like my nightmares could be hiding in that dark corner. Like my deepest, darkest fear has manifested itself in my closet. But really, it's made a home in the darkest corner of my mind. It already came out to play tonight.

I jerk to the side and find my lamp, turning it on and sighing in relief when it's light floods throughout the room. When I look away from the lamp I see my phone, and figure it's about time to continue the next part of my routine. I pick it up, and thank fingerprint recognition when tears cloud my eyes to the point where I wouldn't have been able to see my password as I typed it. I smear some of them away as I hit the phone icon, scrolling through the recent contacts. It doesn't take long to find Emma's name, I don't call that many different people that often. Tears still blurring my vision, I click her name and bring the phone up to my ear, sinking back into my pillow.

I listen to the buzzing tone five and a half times before it is cut off by the automatic voicemail message. Her parents kept her phone, but it's off and in a box in their attic somewhere.

The caller you have dialed is not currently available. Please try again, or leave a message after the tone.

"...Emma," I force out in a strained voice. "I'm so sorry," I continue through a sob. "I miss you so much. I wish I could have saved you. God I wish I could have saved you." I pause to collect myself slightly before continuing. "I wish I could've done something, even though everyone tells me there's nothing that could've been done. I just wish you would come back to me," I say before breaking down yet again. I try to distract my grieving brain by rambling. "I still see you around me. Like in one of the little girls in the pre-ballet classes. She has blonde hair and blue eyes just like you did. She's one of my favorites." I sniffle, continuing. "And I see you in all of the girls at the studio. I know I've said this before, but it's like a piece of you entered each of us when we told them you were gone. Especially Riley. She has the passion that you did, the passion that I try to have for you. I failed Riley too though, she's sick and it took me too long to notice. She's gonna be alright, but everything is too familiar. I can't do this again. I wish you were still here to help me, you were my best friend," I realize that the recording will likely cut me off soon. "I love you, I miss you. I guess I'll talk to you next time."

I hang up the phone and place it back on my bedside table. As I do, I glance at my clock and read two forty-seven in the morning. Talking and explaining my feelings always helps when I'm upset, especially after nightmares. I tell myself that I've calmed down enough, and the best thing that I can do for myself right now is to try to go back to sleep. I flip over my pillow, hoping that the trick I learned when I was little will work and I can now go to sleep on the no-nightmares side. After thinking for a moment, I leave the light on. Maybe the lamp will chase the fears out of my head, too.

I lay my head down, pulling the damp comforter over my shoulders and turning on my side facing away from the lamp - so the light doesn't keep me up. I sigh and try to clear my head, finally closing my eyes.

The momentary feeling of calm is shattered when my phone starts vibrating and ringing on my bedside table. I shoot into a sitting position, my heart in my throat. I assume it's a spam call - it's almost three in the morning after all - and reach over to silence my phone. But before I get the chance, I see the caller ID.

That-hot-guy-who-got-you-a-detention. Noah is calling me. I don't let my complete and utter confusion slow my actions as I pick up the phone.

"Noah, why are you awake?" Why on earth is Noah calling me at three in the morning?

"Teresina are you okay? Do you want me to come over?" He responds in a rushed and panicked voice.

"What are you talking about?" How could he know I had a nightmare?

"You called me and left a voicemail."

"What."

"You left a voicemail on my phone like five minutes ago. I didn't listen to much, but it doesn't seem like you're okay right now." I gently place my phone down on my bedside table - not hanging it up, just putting it down. I slowly turn towards my pillow, pick it up, shove it over my face, and scream. How could I be so stupid to call the wrong number and leave that voicemail? When I'm finished, I put my pillow back in its spot and pick up the phone, hearing Noah's distant voice calling my name as I do so. Slowly, reality sets in.

"I'm so sorry Noah, I didn't mean to wake you. I meant to call a different number. I just had a nightmare," I feel myself starting to tear up again, and absolutely hate it. I was supposed to be done crying. Noah will never believe I'm fine if I can't keep it together. "I'm fine now, don't worry. I'm really sorry for bothering you, we should both go back to sleep." I try to leave it at that. I take the phone away from my face and am centimeters away from hitting the red button when I hear his voice through the phone.

"Teresina don't you dare hang up that phone. I'll just call you back if you do." I hesitate. If I let Noah help me, I'll have to tell him everything. I know he'd never force it out of me, but I'd tell him. If I don't let him help me, I'll continue on like this. The occasional nightmare and never-ending guilt. Then again, I'm not sure I get a choice in if he helps me or not. I put my phone back up to my ear. "Are you still there?" He says much more softly.

"Yeah," my voice cracks, any composure I had left crumbling.

"Is your mom home?"

"No, she's got a night shift."

"Your dad?"

"He left for a business trip yesterday."

"You're home alone right now?"

"Yeah?" I say, not exactly understanding where this is going.

"I'm coming over."

"It's okay Noah, I've already calmed down. You don't need to come over, I'll be okay," I try to convince him, even though my voice is shaking.

"I'll be there in five minutes," he says with undeniable certainty before hanging up the phone. He does always seem to know when I'm lying.

~~~~~

Written 8/13/18, Published 9/2/18

Sorry, but yes, you do have to wait until next week for any type of explanation on what just happened. You've probably got a good idea, but the details on Theresa's past are all laid out in the next chapter. See you then!
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