My World

There wasn’t much to say. There never was when you were alone.

That is, until the doorbell rang.

I was in my room—or what was left of it. The ceiling was still caved in, piling on the space my bed had occupied. The once-pink-and-blue-striped walls stood bleak and gray. Time had corroded the paint and the dinosaur drawings I’d doodled on it. Dust blanketed everything. I was lost in the emptiness once again, in another episode of wordless grief, when it rang.

The dilapidated house had become just another hollow shell, a corpse, an echo of what it used to be. It was still my home, but instead of an outgoing teenager’s home, it now belonged to a scavenger. I had always been met with silence here—a silence I had learned to wrap around myself like a warm blanket. But now the ring of the doorbell cut through it like a blade through grass.

Funny. I’d gone through the front doorway enough times to remember the state of the doorbell: a rusted patch of metal, a hole where the button should have been.

The bell rang again.

I guess I’m finally going insane. I’d always expected that to happen at some point. It had been months since I last talked to a living soul—well, ‘screamed at her’ would be more appropriate.

Yet my legs carried me toward the source of the sound. Down the creaky stairs, into the empty foyer. My chest ached—how long had it been since I last heard a doorbell? Memories flashed through my mind—of sunlit parks and morning dew, of playful laughter, of Rae…

I stood ramrod straight in the middle of the foyer. Beyond the cavity in the ceiling above, the sky was iron-gray and clouds roiled, heavy with rain. My usual survival instinct tried to dissuade me, that old memories were playing tricks on me again. But my heart wasn’t having it. It pushed me toward the front door, which hung by a single hinge. My eyes caught a silhouette beyond it. My heart leapt to my throat.

Just delusions, sang my head.

Go on, screamed my heart.

I was alone. Rae had left me. She had died, I kept telling myself. But I knew the hard lines of that silhouette, the way it held itself like an injured animal. The sight petrified me. The pounding in my heart grew to my head, until I felt even the slightest breeze would sweep me off my feet.

Ting, went the bell. Ting-ting-ting-ting—

“R-Rae?”

The impatient ringing dropped. The door shuddered, swung.

The floor dropped from under me.

We stood a few feet apart from each other; the moment seemed to stretch on forever. That sharp face, those cat-like eyes, the raven hair that used to gleam so well, now coated in dust and turned a shade grayer. Otherwise, she was the same old Rae.

Her eyes were wide in disbelief. “I thought—thought you were—”

“Dead,” I whispered.

The next moment, her arms had me. A gasp escaped my lips, and my arms reluctantly wrapped around her slim frame. She smiled up at me, tears staining her pink cheeks, but my face didn’t change; I might as well have been struck by lightning. I was still taking her in, still trying to believe all of this.

Delusional, my head sang on. I pulled her closer, her head against my chest. She felt all too real.

* * *

Heavy rain. It pounded the ground, unrelenting; it was like the sky had dropped an ocean on us. We squeezed together in a cramped space under the staircase. Clouds rumbled far above, flashing white as thunder struck. Fat drops splattered into puddles right before our feet; my pants were soaked through.

Rae shivered beside me and pulled her legs against her chest. Trails of water snaked into our little space. Give it time, and we’d be sitting in a puddle.

I voiced my thoughts. Rae frowned. “No,” she said. “We’ll get wet inside or out. Sooner out than in.”

“And why not sooner?”

Her frown deepened. “You’re lucky it’s just me here and not some jock or you’d wet yourself before—”

My hand found her mouth in an instant; she yanked it away and spat, cursing. I raised an eyebrow at her.

Surprisingly, she only smiled. “Still playing Big Sis?”

“Ah” was all I could say. Our nicknames, dry and unoriginal as they were, still pulled me way back. As if on a reel, the pictures played before my eyes: baby-Rae and baby-me playing in the bathtub, naked, cheeks pink with exhaustion; me crying as Dad left me for school the first time, and Rae smiling devilishly through the car window; Rae and I betting on who would ask out their crush first—and tons and tons of other adventures, all colorful and bright with sunshine. But my smile waned as, once again, I remembered what she was. What she chose to be.

“What? Don’t like that name anymore?” Rae asked, drawing me back into the storm.

Rain poured on before us. The smell was dry, dead, lacking that earthy freshness. I shook my head. “It’s just—I thought you died.” I looked at her.

Rae’s face was cautiously blank. “I died?”

“You see anyone else?” The accusatory tone of my voice took me aback.

A flicker of pain crossed her face. “That’s—that’s not—” She sighed and looked away. “We don’t need anyone else.”

Speak for yourself, I almost blurted out. Instead I said, “I do.”

Rae stiffened.

“I said it before: you’re not enough, Rae,” I continued. “I want to go back.”

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered.

“You don’t have to be so stubborn.”

She whirled, eyes set on me. “Yes, I do!”

“Why?”

“Because no one’s worth it!”

My insides bubbled; I remember having this argument before, minutes after she pulled us into this dead world. “You just met ten or so assholes in your life and everyone suffers for that?” It all came back to me: her emotional breakdown, the green aura building around her, licking the skies like flames, burning or corroding everything it touched. I thought the world had died that instant, but it took me a while to realize I was wrong. She’d thrown us into the far-future; a bleak future. It all made sense when she started ‘healing’ certain objects—like the doorbell just now—which actually meant she was transporting their past state into this future. I knew she could transport the world back, but unlike me, she didn’t miss it.

She had loved it here, had embraced the silence.

Rae was quiet. I felt the aura emanating off of her; it always made you a little nauseous. Guys thought it was the perfume; Aunt Lynda called her “possessed.” No one saw what was coming.

I tried to compose myself. I had wandered this wasteland for months now; we both had. Part of me grieved for her, thought the world deserved all of this, but somehow those thoughts never soothed me.

Well, now she’s here. Alive. With you.

We had a chance of going back.

“Rae…” I tried again, my voice soft. She continued staring at the ground between her legs. “You remember kindergarten days, right? Or—or our chat group! It was, um—”

Rae snorted. “Zewd,” she said, raising her head. “It’s still sounds lame, damn it.”

I laughed. “You’re the one who wanted to put ‘Zeus’ and ‘Lewd’ together.”

“Ah, Zeus. Still haven’t gotten over him.” Her eyes were dreamy and distant, but then they focused on me. “I remember everything, Ruth. It’s all I’ve lived on these past few months.” Her hands clenched into fists in her lap. Thunder painted the ground outside in white. “But people just want a kiss or a favor or your ass—and then they act like you don’t exist.”

My hand rested on her bony shoulder. She sank into the warmth of my skin. Soon she leaned against me, her head on my chest.

“That’s unfair, I know,” I whispered down at her. I stroked her hair gently—was that how mothers did it? “But…you think this place is helping you?”

She looked up at me. Water caught in her lashes, looking like morning dew drops. My chest ached at the memory of a cool, morning breeze washing over me, of a pink horizon.

“I—I dunno. Is it?”

I smiled reassuringly. “For all the time you’ve been here, you still hate everyone.”

Rae’s face lit with understanding. The wide eyes, the slightly parted lips—a child-like realization. She straightened, her back to me. For a long time, only the downpour filled the silence.

“I’m never getting over it, am I?” Came her meek voice.

“You could,” I said softly. “If we—”

“Go back?”

Yes! The thought echoed in me, desperate and craving. Clawing its way up my throat, but my jaw was set. Let her ponder on her own; let her persuade herself into this.

“You’re all I have, Ruth. I can survive here, with just you. But back there… with assholes around every corner, I don’t—you won’t be enough.”

“I don’t need to be,” I blurted out. “You’ll make friends.”

Rae snorted. “Just for as long as they find me useful.”

“Look,” I put a hand on her shoulder and forced her to turn. Her eyes avoided me at first, but maybe seeing no way out of this, she finally forced them to lock with mine. “I’ll help you.”

I saw the gears turning in her head. Deciding. Please, Rachel, please…

She nodded.

A thousand confetti blew up inside me. My hand slipped from her shoulder as I watched her in stunned silence.

“You—you’ll do it?” I croaked out.

Rachel shook her head, her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I guess I’ll try…” For a moment, she looked a pitiful sight—sitting cross-legged, dust caking her hair, holes in her dress, wet dirt stains on her cheeks—until a green haze rose around her. Before I could even recoil, a wave of nausea hit me. Green coils tore through our little shelter, but the storm didn’t invade it. Actually, I hadn’t realized it had gone silent, or maybe the entire world had disappeared. All I saw was flat green, with a sun-like glare that burned my eyes—until even that faded to black.

* * *

I lay on something soft. My eyes fluttered open. Darkness receded and gave way to a room; my legs stretched out before me on a bed.

My bed! I realized.

“Ahem—”

I jumped at the voice. A figure sat hunched on a chair beside me.

“Explain to me why you found it a great idea to faint under the stairs?” Dad asked. Creases of worry lined his forehead, but the look he gave me said he expected an answer.

A sob escaped my lips. My mind tried to neglect the surroundings around me, neglect him, but I was on him already. Crying. Laughing. The familiar scent of manure still lingered on him, like it always had.

“Whoa there,” he said, embracing me.

Behind him, Rae stood by the door. She looked all tidied up, smiling. But her smile was weary, like she was already beginning to regret this idea.

It’ll work out, my eyes told her.

She gave me a look. I’m trusting you with that, it said.