A burgundy Louis V with long straps and gold accents. The contents ranged from tissues to contacts. Her keys, one for her car, one for her house, but the rest were all charms and a big black pom-pom. A bottle of perfume by Lady Gaga and black nail polish with a bottle of clear coat. Her Michael Kors wallet and ten dollars in cash, but about five hundred in credit. A picture of us tucked where her ID should be and a squished coin from the time we went to Jersey together. A pack of mint bubblegum with only two pieces left. A package of unopened tissues and some dirty ones floating amongst the sea of girly things and loving memories.
I held the bag in my lap in the waiting room, softly praying to whatever higher power to make sure she is okay. I could feel tears coming down my face, but I couldn't care less; I just let them fall and keep coming. I remember when we first met; she was wearing a little black dress and studded black heels. I thought to myself, what a diva dressing up for orientation. She came up to me, and I could see her eyes—a beautiful blue-green galaxy where the stars were only the beginning of their beauty.
“Hi, my name is Chloe, what's yours?”
I could barely breathe, the smell of sandalwood and lilac intoxicating me.
“Eva.”
She smiled at me and put her arm around me, pulling me in close for a picture. I was startled; being so antisocial, this was a very odd situation I was in. It turned out she was going to be my new roommate, and I didn't even know it until the RA gave us two of the same keys.
“Eva?” I looked up from her bag and at the doctor; he looked concerned, and I mentally prepared for the worst.
“She is very lucky you found her. She is awake and asked to see you.”
I followed him down a long, sickly clean hallway and around a corner to room 216. The curtains were pulled closed so you couldn't see into the room, and the lights were dimmed.
“You have thirty minutes; then the psychiatric nurse on duty has to talk with her.”
I opened the door and looked at her lying there; she had dozed off waiting for me to come back. I was so happy to see her breathing, but I could feel the tears coming down with a new urgency. The machine monitoring her heart kept a beat, and I tried to memorize it, so if she ever tried to kill herself again, I could restart her heart.
She opened her eyes and looked up at me; she didn't speak, she just silently stared at me. I ran up to her and placed a kiss on her forehead. She started to cry, shaking and inhaling so fast it seemed as though she was choking. I kissed her, a deep kiss that we held for a long time. I hugged her and whispered in her ear, “Don't ever leave me.” She hugged me back, continuing to cry and shake while she held me.
“I love you so much; I am so sorry.”
I climbed into the bed with her and softly played with her hair. The doctor came in, but he never asked me to leave; he just checked her vitals and left. I fell asleep with my nose in her hair; I could smell her even while I was dreaming.
Chloe wasn't like other girls—like a mirror image, the same but opposite. She looked like your typical mean girl with a bad attitude and too much money; against all odds, she had a heart of gold and a loving soul.
My sight was hazy, and there was a distant sound of singing; entranced, I followed the sound through a sweet blue-hued fog resting around my feet. It was her singing in the shower. Her voice was soft and angelic while water cascaded down her body, the steam enveloping her essence and softly rolling toward me until the fog and steam came together and became inseparable. I felt warm and safe, trusting the warm blue hues to shield me from any harshness and lull me to sleep—
“Haley, please help me! I don't know what I did; I can't stop throwing up; my chest hurts so much!” The shower that once looked so peaceful suddenly grew saucer-sized crimson orbs and white, razor-sharp teeth. The fog around me smelled foul, and I started to choke all the while; she flailed and screamed, thrashing about inside the monster's mouth, begging me to help her. I left all my common sense behind and jumped inside the monster's mouth, and all I could do when I got there was lovingly hold her head and softly stroke her hair. I rubbed her small, soft hands, talking sweetly to her like this was just another lunch date, reassuring her how much I loved her and how silly people who wear sunglasses all the time look. I let out a spine-tingling moan, trying to will this reality to not be real. She just lay there in my arms, barely breathing and unresponsive, while I begged the world to save her.
My whole world was upheaved; figuratively, my body was ripped by the base from the earth like a weed, leaving me in unbearable pain and confusion. Surreal. As if this was merely a fire drill and there was no way this really happened.
I could hear it again, the harsh, terrifying sound of the ambulance and the sudden bullet of silence that pierced my skull. Why was it so quiet? What is happening? Help her, oh God, please help her!
I shot up out of the hospital bed, pouring sweat and surrounded by the defining sound of silence and the soft pitter-patter of goal-oriented shoes. I used to remember what that felt like; fuck, I would kill for any sense of orientation right now—goals or otherwise. I looked over to see her still sleeping soundly, no doubt medicated; she looked peaceful, with her porcelain skin making small, soft heaves as she breathed. I placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and climbed out of the gurney, debating whether or not I would call anyone to let them know I was in the seventh circle of hell or just accept the fact and watch my queen and me be swallowed up by the flames.
