Page 5 of F*cking Shattered

She releases me and gives me a longing look. “This will be great, you’ll see.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. When you get back, you owe me a mani/pedi day for the horrible summer you’re about to inflict on me.”

She points at me. “Deal. Mani/pedi’s, dinner, and drinks.”

I let a silent laugh fall from my lips. “Have fun, and don’t catch any diseases!” I holler at her as she makes her way down the hallway.

She holds up her middle finger just before she rounds the corner to the elevator.

I giggle and close the door.

I walk through the apartment and turn off the lights, not bothering to clean up our mess. Tomorrow is Saturday, I’ll have all day to clean up.

I wash my face free of the makeup she’d caked on, and pull on some pajamas before crawling into bed.

I turn off the light and settle beneath the blankets. I hope that she is right. I hope this is the best summer of our lives. I need a break. I need to get out of my shell a little, but it’s so hard when I feel like I have to force myself to do something as simple as going to a bar and talking to strangers.

If it wasn’t for her, I’d probably be the crazy cat lady.

Chapter Two

I wake in the morning and roll from bed, heading straight to the shower in hopes of getting rid of this hangover.

I don’t ever drink much. I only had three of whatever it was Katie made last night, but they were strong. I have a headache the size of a Buick.

I take extra-long in the shower. When I step out, the small space is filled with steam as the moisture beads up on the mirror and white tiled walls. I walk back into my bedroom and dress in a pair of black leggings and a baggy sweatshirt. I pull my wet hair up into a bun on the top of my head, and go in search of food. I’m not going to do anything today but clean up my apartment. No point in trying to be presentable.

I walk into the living room and see the coffee table still home to our leftover junk food fiesta. Crumbs are scattered across the white carpet, and the white and cream colored couch is ruffled and covered in blankets. I roll my eyes and pass it by, opting to get some sustenance before tackling that project.

I make myself a bowl of cereal, and take a seat on the couch as I’m turning on the TV. I flip through the channels aimlessly until something catches my eye. My finger stops pushing buttons as I hear what the news announcer is saying.

“Flight 108 departed from Los Angeles at five A.M. this morning heading for its Miami destination. Unfortunately, something went terribly wrong.” It flashes to a fiery plane crash.

The hand holding the spoonful of cereal freezes on its way to my mouth as I watch the story unfold.

The announcer continues to explain what happened to cause the crash, but my ears suddenly stop working. I can’t hear a word. I can only see the images flashing across the screen.

There is nothing left of the plane. Its torn apart metal lies in heaps across the scorched earth. There are rescue teams rushing to put the fire out while the words, “No found survivors” run across the bottom of the screen.

All I see is fire and smoke. The earth that was once flat and green is now a massive divot that holds the burning plane. People are rushing to the scene to assess the situation while news teams surround the nearby area. The entire place is covered in flashing red and blue lights.

My ears ring and my chest burns from lack of oxygen as I sit watching this horrific event, still unable to hear a word they are saying. And I don’t really care because my best friend was on that flight.

Without thinking, I hurriedly set the bowl on the coffee table and rush to my room to get my phone. I look on the bedside table where I normally put it, but it’s not there. Frustrated, I toss the blankets off my bed in an attempt to locate it.

“Please God! Please don’t let her be on that plane!” I pray out loud.

When I come up empty handed, I run back into the living room and throw everything off the coffee table. Everything spills and seeps into the white carpet.

It isn’t here either. I turn and throw blankets and couch cushions onto the floor. I don’t care about the mess. All I care about is whether Katie was on that plane.

With everything thrown from the couch, I finally find it. It must have fallen between the cushions last night. I grab it and frantically swipe the screen to see twenty missed calls.

I ignore them all and dial her number.

“Hi, it’s Katie. If I don’t answer I’m probably lounging at the beach or too busy becoming famous to talk to you. Leave a message and I’ll call you back. Maybe.” She giggles over the recording.

I fall to my knees, clutching my phone in my hands. My eyes land on the fiery scene that still plays on the TV, not quite believing what I’m seeing. But it’s like my entire world has been shattered. All I can hear is my heart pounding wildly while I desperately try to take in enough oxygen.