Stranded Page #3

• Essay

								

“It’s alright. How much farther are we?” he replies. 
“Not too much. We should be close now.” I say as the wrecked pink Jeep comes into view. There's so much damage done. It looks like we were the ramps for a monster truck rally. 
“JANE! I brought help!” I scream with no reply. “Jane?” 
“Ma’am are you sure this is the car?” the police officer asks, concern filling up his eyes.
“Yes! I’m sure.” I reply as I make my way around to the side of the car but Jane is nowhere to be seen. ‘Did something happen?’ I think to myself as anxiety creeps up on me like a monster in the night. I basically tear open the car door ignoring the officers requests to stop, but then I do. The sight freezes me in place taking control of every part of my body. I scream bloody freakin murder. I scream, yell, holler, I can’t stop no matter how much I try. The officer is wrapping his arms around me now taking me away. More cops are here now but I’m frozen. The image is haunting me making me want to curl up in a blanket and hide. I can’t get it out of my mind. The blood is everywhere. ‘How could she do that?’ I scream. I feel my aunt wrap her arms around me in a desperate attempt to calm me down. I have no clue how long I’ve stood here in a cloudy haze only partially aware of how they already know that Lilah won’t make it to her 21st birthday. How they already know she stabbed her and then left? If I could stay here in this half-dead, half-alive universe I would. It’s numbing the pain and taking away the image. That will always haunt me the bloody hole where she stabbed her, right in the heart. 
“Reagan.” My aunt whispers in my hair. I had forgotten she was holding me. She was my only tie to this earth right now. I have to be there for her and get out of this mind numbly half existence. 
“Yes.”I say finally getting the words out.
“The police need you to look at a note. They found it in Lilah’s pocket. Is that okay?” She says, the concern apparent on her face.
“Yes, it is. What do they need me to do?” I respond, already wanting to burrow back into the hole I just climbed out of. 
“They need you to guarantee, it’s Jane’s handwriting,” she whispers to me, hugging me even tighter.
“I can do that,” I say my heart hollower than a dead tree. She hands me the note and without reading it, I whisper “That’s her handwriting.” 

“True friends stab you in the front.” -Oscar Wilde. Haha! The branch couldn’t finish the job so I did. I won in the end. 
Love, Jane 
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