Ash came to my door three days in a row, knocking on the chain secured door. Each day, I sat on the stairs, waiting until he would eventually give up and go back home. On the fourth day, he stopped showing up. On the fourth day, everything changed.
On the fourth day, Madison died.
“You’re lying.”
My dad ran a hand over his face, looking tired. He had aged so much in the last few weeks; his skin was paler and looser, his dark hair filled with streaks of gray. “I wish I was, champ. But I’m not. We got the word today, myself and Mr. and Mrs. Wu. Madison passed last night.”
I swallowed hard, everything turning red in front of my eyes. “No. Dad, she’s not dead. She cannot be dead.”
“I’m so sorry, champ.”
“No!” I screamed, picking up my cup and throwing it against the wall. It hit the wall with a loud crash, scattering into a million pieces, across the counters, sliding on the floor, wedging underneath the fridge. I slid out of my chair, sinking to the ground.
He came down on his knees and pulled me into his arms. “You need to go, Zoey. I’m going to get you a car. You’re going to drive to Nebraska.”
I wiped the tears from my cheeks with shaky fingers. “No. Not without you.”
Dad hesitated, and I saw a brief spasm of pain flash across his face, the way it usually did with my mother. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Your mother and I…”
“I know what she did,” I said, viciously. “But I’m going without you. No way. I can’t go there. I can’t be around her without you.” I felt the hysteria bubbling in my stomach.
“Okay,” he agreed, quickly. “Okay. We’ll go Friday.” Three days away. “We need to get some things together, but we’ll go. Together.”
I hiccupped. “Thank you.” A fresh wave of tears threatened to spill over. “I just can’t…I can’t. Madison…”
He pulled me closer and rocked me back and forth. “It’s going to be okay, champ. We’re going to be okay.”
I didn’t know if we were going to be okay. I didn’t even know what that word meant anymore. Not when everyone was saying it over and over again. It was losing its meaning. Nothing was okay. Nothing could be okay again.
“Z!”
I froze in place on the couch, where I’d been watching a movie. I hadn’t heard from Ash in days. And now, I could’ve sworn I heard his voice. My heart was pounding in my chest. I’d been alone for a couple days and every noise, every tiny sound was amplified in the empty house.
“Z! Please!”
His voiced sounded pleading. I stood up and tiptoed to the door. I cursed the fact that the peephole was over my head. I placed my palms against the cool wood of the front door, waiting to hear more. I jumped when a loud pounding sounded through the empty entryway.
“Let me in. Please. I’m begging.”
I hesitated. He sounded different, almost as if he had finished crying or was about to. I had never heard that tone of voice from Ash in my life. “Are you sick? I can’t let you in if you’re sick.”
“I’m not, Zoey. I’m not.”
It was that, being called Zoey instead of Z, that changed my mind. I unlocked the front door and let him in. He pushed past me and went straight to the staircase and sunk onto the bottom step, his head cradled in his hands.
I looked at him in shock, unsure of how to approach him. Ash was the guy with the smiles, the one who made all the jokes. He could even make Ol’ Barb, the lunch lady, laugh. He was the easygoing, laidback football player. He was not this guy.
His hair was a disaster, unkempt and unwashed. There were distinct dark bags under his eyes, eyes which had lost the luster they normally possessed. His clothes were rumpled and looked like they’d been worn for a couple days. I heard a soft click of nails on the wood floor and saw Bandit coming into the room. He rested his chin on Ash’s knee. Ash raised his hand and patted his head absently.
“Ash, what are you doing here?” I asked hesitantly.
“I had nowhere else to go.”
“What about…” I trailed off, “what about Heather?”
He didn’t answer, and I felt my heart sink in my chest. I had a sudden feeling that Heather Carr was no longer a resident of this world. This still didn’t explain why he was here.
“Ash?”
He looked up at me, and for a moment, I saw nine-year-old Ash, vulnerable, as the new student in a small private school. “My parents,” he said, his voice hollow.
I stepped closer. “What about your parents?”
“They’re gone.” He sounded surprised, like he’d finally realized the truth of the statement. “They were sick, really bad. They kept begging me to take them to the hospital, but I couldn’t…not after Madison.”
I inhaled sharply, placing my fist against my trembling lips. I wouldn’t cry. I couldn’t cry.
“They came last night, the same people who came and took Maddie. I… He stopped and turned angry. “I hid. I hid in the closet and I just watched as they took them away. My parents. I just let these people take my parents.”