Riley

Riley - 

My phone buzzes and I groan. Drew is out partying again and I can almost guarantee he’s the one calling me right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if his ride home bailed.

It buzzes again and I roll over, snatching it off the bedside with a growl, his name flashes on the screen and I let out a long sigh before answering.

“Drew. It’s 2am. I’m not coming to get you.” I huff and try to suppress my yawn. The line is strangely quiet bar some rustling. “Drew-w” I whine in a strop.

“R-Riley.” My name sounds like gravel in his throat.

I frown, sitting up in the darkness.

“Drew?”

“I’m sorry.” He coughs and I wince as he groans and splutter’s.

“What? Where are you?” I ask nervously.

“I think he’s fucking dead.” He sniffles, the tears gargling in his throat. The sounds crackling through the phone.

I flip the covers off me in a second and leap out of bed and jog down the hall to our Dad’s room.

“Where are you?! What’s happened?!” I bark as I swing open our Dad’s door and shove at him hard.

“I don’t know… one minute we were driving. The next… AH!” 

“Drew!” I shout into the phone.

“What’s going on?” Dad grumble’s as I shove the phone into his limp, sleepy hand and he pulls it to his ear. “Hello?” He coughs and clears his throat.

I chew at my nail for a second and pace as our Father’s eyes widen and he bolts up from the bed to start pulling on his clothes and sets the phone down on loud speaker.

“Dad… I’m really tired.” Drew murmurs through the phone and I sob.

“Stay awake Drew! You hear me?! I’m on my way!” Dad shouts and pulls a T-shirt over his head. Snatching his phone he tosses it to me. “What road are you on Drew? Keep talking to me.”

“Route… 6.” Drew sigh’s but he sounds so close to falling asleep.

“Stay awake!” Dad snaps and turns to me. “Call the ambulance Ri. I’m going. Keep my phone and stay here ok!”

I nod, moving in a trance as I dial 911 into his phone…

***

I wake with a gasp and clutch the ache in my chest. Looking around my room frantically to try and gather my bearings and slow down my rapidly beating heart.

Breathing out a steady breath, I draw my knees up to my chest and glance at my bedside table. The soft blue hue of morning light peaks through my sheer curtains and offers just enough light to illuminate the framed photograph beside my lamp. I sigh and reach for the watch that lies in front of it.

Bringing it up to my face, I trace a finger over the cracked glass and smooth my thumb over the softly worn leather strap.

My gaze fixes on the frozen, unmoving hands, stuck in time and a constant reminder.

1:55.

Tears prickle in the back of my throat but I don’t let them out as I bring the broken glass to my lips and hold them against the cool face for a moment, enjoying the soft scratch of broken glass before setting it back down in front of the photograph with care.

I suck in a breath for strength and pull myself from the bed and pad over to the en-suite, flicking on my shower and pulling off my clothes.

Stepping in, I relish in the burn of the hot water pounding down on my shoulders.

“Drew!” My voice bounces off the halls of the hospital corridor as I crumble down to the floor.

“Come here love.” My Dad croaks, dropping to his knees before me and pulling me into his body. I wail into his chest, clutching at his T-shirt, despite the filth now covering it.

“I am so very sorry for your loss Mr Jenkins, we did everything we could...” The doctor in her crisp white coat say’s in that way all doctors have to, it’s soft but not emotional.

The sound of shoes squeaking to a halt and the sound of heavy breath momentarily put a pause in my tears as I turn my face out of my Dad’s chest to see Blake standing at the end of the hall. Shoulder’s heaving, face flushed and sweat soaking through his shirt. His flush soon drop’s and his skin turns ash white.

“No…” he murmur’s. Tears welling in his eyes as he braces the wall for support.

“Where were you?” I croak. His bloodshot eyes meet mine but he doesn’t answer me. The tear’s rush back once more and I bury my head again to let them free.

My shoulders heave steady breaths as I try to hold my composure against my intrusive thoughts. I place a hand on my chest, feeling the steady beat of my heart underneath and focus on it, counting the beats in my head until they slow once again.

Huffing out a sigh, I flick off the water and snack my towel off the warmer, wrapping it around my body and drying off as quickly as I can before emerging back into my room and rummaging through my draws for some clothes. Grabbing out my black jeans and black T-shirt, I yank them on, pulling my white hoodie off the door and pulling it over myself to cover my arms. Pulling open my door with more force than necessary, I jog downstairs, pulling my hair up into a messy knot on my head as I do before marching for the kitchen.

My steps halt in the living room where my Dad is still asleep on the couch. I sigh and round the back, pulling off the blanket and unfolding it. An empty tumbler sits on the table beside an empty whiskey bottle. I look back over him, Drew’s old hockey jersey still clutched in his arms.

I lay the blanket over him, grabbing the empty glass and bottle before continuing to the kitchen.

After cleaning the takeout containers from the kitchen and unloading the dishwasher, I make a fresh pot of coffee, filling my travel mug up all the way and leaving half the pot for whenever Dad wakes.

Grabbing my bag off the back of the barstool and slinging it over my shoulder, I snatch my keys out of the bowl and slip out.

***

I sit, parked where I always do for an hour every morning and stare out of the window to the grass verge beside me. Even 6 months later and the grass still seems to refuse to grow back there. The thick verge, broken through from the impact, the earth still looks so fresh. I sigh, bringing my travel mug to my lips and gulping down the content’s.

The road is so quiet here at this time. Not many people are out at 5am, especially on this road.

I sometimes wonder if anyone drove past here that night.

Did they see anything? Did they just keep driving past, not thinking anything otherwise while my brother lay dying in this ditch?

Authorities obviously opened an investigation at the time but no one ever came forward with any knowledge. Not that it stops the thought creeping in regardless.

The usual cold shiver trails down my spine and I set down my half empty mug into its holder. My gaze flicks to the clock on my dash as I reach for the key with numb fingers and twist it in the ignition. Wrapping my hands around the steering wheel, I look back to the ditch once more.

“I love you.” I mumble quietly, fighting back the threatening tears and pulling out onto the quiet road.

***

Tossing my bag into the locker, I listen to the usual whisper’s that surround me as I grab out what I need for my first class.

“Well. You look like shit.” I roll my eyes at the sound of August’s voice beside me from where I know she’s leaned against the lockers.

“Yeah.” I sigh and glance to the mirror stuck to the inside of my locker door, immediately wincing at my reflection. I used to care how I looked. Now? Nothing really seems to be all that big of a deal. Not even the gray, hollow bags under my eyes.

“Nightmare’s?” She asks softly. I meet her eyes but don’t need to say anything, I never do with her. Her gaze softens, a solemn straight smile pulling at her lips.

The whispers suddenly get louder around us as does the sound of people bustling around. August’s eyes widen as she looks over my shoulder and I frown, flicking my head around to see the fuss.

My spine prickles instantly.

A hooded figure is walking down the corridor towards us. Heavy biker boots thud against the linoleum and echo in the now ghostly silent corridor. His figure is hunched forward a little, hands stuffed into the pockets of ripped jeans as he skulks closer. His hood is up and covering his face so all that’s visible is the tip of a sharp nose while his face is drawn in the shadow of his hood. The leather of his jacket creak’s as he walks with sullen purpose.

Just as he passes us, his head lifts just enough that his cold blue eyes latch onto mine for just a moment. My stomach twist’s uncomfortably at the familiarity in that gaze.

“Did you know he was back?” August asks as we watch the broad backed figure round the corner and disappear from sight.

“No.” I murmur and slam the door of my locker making her flinch as I stride off and she skips after me quickly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She asks in a huff of breath while trying to keep up with me.

“Because I have nothing to say. He won’t talk to me anymore anyway.” I snuff and swing the door open into my classroom and head straight for the back.

Dropping into my chair, August sits on the desk in front of me and gathers her supplies out of her bag.

Leaning back in my seat, my arms cross over my chest tightly and my teeth grind against each other painfully.

Over the next hour, the entire class is in constant whisper’s about Blake.

Blake fucking Thompson.