When Five Becomes Four

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The House of Sleep

Abel often dreamed about dying. In the beginning the recurring dreams had troubled him, but now, he found comfort in those dreams – to be specific, he found comfort in endings and in the idea of simply ceasing to feel or exist. Clinically depressed, that was the term his psychiatrist had thrown at his mother. He needed help, pills, something to alleviate his want for oblivion. They gave him medicine, things like Zoloft and Prozac and Xanax - it didn't help.

Two months into treatment, he stopped taking the pills, abandoned all dreams of becoming a Marine Biologist, and applied for a job as a barista at the coffee shop a few blocks away. It was an 8:00 am to 5:00 pm job he cared nothing about, and on the weekends, he would sleep all day and stay up reading books all night. He didn't remember any of the books, simply allowed his eyes to scan over the words so he'd tire out his brain enough for another round of sleep. He was rotting as he lived, and this was the reason why, Abel was lying on his back on the 18th floor of his apartment complex. His legs dangled over the edge of the rooftop and he kicked them back and forth as he stared up at the starry sky.

It would be so easy to just get on his feet, take a step, and fall to his death.

It would be over in a fraction of a second.

He imagined himself, wind whipping at his skin as he tore through the air - a moment of flight before the final fall. He imagined the stunned people, screaming as bones and flesh came into contact with concrete. And then he imagined himself, splayed across the pavement like a broken marionette, limbs bent at odd angles, bones protruding out of bloodied flesh, his skull shattered, blood seeping out of his head like a secret.

Abel could understand why people romanticized death. Really, he could. There was beauty in the broken.

Sammie's death in particular was a striking example of this literary trope.

One of the happiest people he knew had killed herself, and before she died, she'd sent flowers to her family and friends. Not even a note, just flowers... he'd received a single Rue and he didn't know what to make of it. Sammie had been into floriography, and he felt a weight on his chest when he finally got around to looking up the flower's meaning.

Regret. Sorrow. Grace.

What did she regret? Not getting the help she needed? Her friendships? A spark of anger roared to life in chest, but it died down as quickly as it had arrived. He was numb. Grey eyes focused on the vast emptiness of space. Abel remained lying there for ten more minutes before he finally sat up and looked at the streets and the passing cars below. Not today. He was no stranger to loss, he knew his decisions would affect others as well. His mother, his aunt... he couldn't do that to them.

Abel inched away from the edge of the rooftop, tucked his feet back and stood up. It was time to head downstairs.

***
He couldn't sleep. It didn't surprise him anymore, nothing was easy these days. Unable to pass out for the night and uninterested in the books scattered around his room, Abel decided to go for a midnight walk.

The city was quiet at night, and aside from the occasional person or two, he was alone. Abel relished the silence, at least, until he noticed a familiar silhouette standing at the end of the street - Sammie.

The girl was wearing her signature pink scarf and she was smiling at him. Had he finally lost his mind?

Anger and sadness melded together, and for the first time in two months, he felt something other than numbness – he felt alive with rage. Abel’s leisurely steps turned into large strides as all rational thoughts left his head. He balled up his fists and stared the specter in the eyes. "You're dead. We attended your funeral. You're dead."

He should have walked away, but instead, words started spilling out of his mouth. "Why... you could have. You could have talked to us. You could have done something, anything but that. You're selfish and cruel and you've broken us."

"You'll forgive me, Abel. You have a kind heart."

What was he doing talking to this thing who wasn't even Sammie. "Not even a note, just some cryptic flower game. What kind of friend does that?" Abel's voice broke as he stared wide-eyed at the girl who'd been buried more than a year ago. Perhaps, the next term his psychiatrist would throw at his mother would be Schizophrenia or something that got him locked away in some asylum forever.

Abel's eyelids snapped open when he felt cold fingers around his wrist.

“You have to talk to the others.”

Sammie led him to the building across the street. He stared at the glass and at his reflection, Sammie didn't have one. "You're showing me a building?" The universe certainly played cruel tricks.

"Please, talk to the others." Sammie wasn't smiling anymore. She released Abel's hand, and soon enough, stood behind him. What Abel wasn't expecting was for the girl to push him. He lost his balance but instead of crashing into glass, he slipped through it like it wasn't even there - like a stone sinking easily in the water.

Abel crashed into something solid. It swung open upon impact and he found himself lying on the floor of a spacious warehouse. All around him were bunk beds with people sleeping peacefully beneath the covers.

Mermaids, rabbits, men, women, everyone was sleeping.

Amidst everything was a tiny creature half his size. The creature had a human-like figure but he also had a half moon for a head, he wore striped pajamas and had a bag of sand slung over his small frame.

Abel's heart hammered in his chest. "Where... where am I?"

The creature he'd dubbed the moon man turned to face him. "Welcome to the House of Sleep."

Abel didn't answer, he merely stood up as he attempted to take it all in.

"This is a place where dreams come true!" The moon man continued. "Rough night? You look like you need a nap. I'm the Sandman and I'm here to help!" As the words were said, the moon man grabbed a fistful of sand out of his bag and tossed it at one of the stirring sleepers.

"I'm lost," Abel answered. "I'm not from here."

"Ah, I see! You must be Abel then?"

He turned to the moon man, stunned. "How did you know my name?"

“A girl came by, said you ought to find your friends.”

Abel didn’t quite follow. “Um, a girl?”

“Yes, she was only here for a second! Nice, friendly, she had a pretty smile. Told me you'd be stopping by, that I should help acquaint you to this world. Welcome to the Other Place! You should be able to find your friends outside."

Abel had given up on questioning the plausibility of the situation he’d found himself in, so with a hesitant nod, Abel accepted the moon man's words and wandered outside. He didn't understand a word, didn't understand what was happening.

***
The Other Place was Narnia and Wonderland and Oz all in one. It was the stuff of dreams, yet as Abel traversed through strange, impossible landscapes, fear began creeping up on him. Maybe, just maybe, he'd lost his balance on the rooftop and had fallen all the way to hell. Strange, but not as strange as the creatures and places he'd passed. Flying whales, knights and wizards on horseback, shadow people, yep... Schizophrenic would definitely be the next word doctors threw at him.
 
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The day Kenna woke up alone with an IV in her arm would be one she'd never forget. She stared up at the ceiling, letting the fluorescent lights blind her. Eventually she had to close her eyes. Yet, Kenna did not sleep. Simply wilted as the quiet of her hospital room tugged at floodgates she'd tried desperately to keep closed for over a year. There were no obligations or responsibilities there, save to get better, but how could she heal when every attempt filled with memories of her dead best friend?

Kenna's throat tightened. Exhaling slowly through her nose, she willed the tears to dry. She'd cried enough for a lifetime the first week after Sammie's death. Had cried even more than that in the first night alone, college registration forgotten as she rushed to the hospital. Despite the thirty miles excess in speed limit and multiple red lights run, Kenna arrived too late.

She knew she would not have made it. Sammie's mother had called to say her baby girl - Kenna's best friend - stopped smiling. Stopped laughing. Stopped speaking. Stopped breathing. Stopping living.

Sammie had died and Kenna didn't even know she was sick.

And now it was Kenna's turn to lay in a hospital bed, fat wet tears rolling down her cheeks. The floodgates broke and she found herself drowning. Swallowed up by guilt, shame, failure. Once upon a time Kenna promised to protect them, damn it, not let her friend down a cocktail of anti-depressants and sleeping medication. After a year Kenna sank back beneath waves of despair, no lifeline in sight; Sammie cut it the day she took her own life.

Her death had been peaceful, so they said, but in its wake created a tsunami that tore everything apart. One by one, Kenna thought of her childhood friends - remembered familiar faces that devolved into those of strangers. Nobody stood at her bedside because everyone left a long time ago.

Gripping tightly to Sammie's parting flower, she had tried so hard to distract herself from the world crumbling around her. But, in the end, Kenna crumbled, too.

***​

Her time in the hospital set Kenna back a year in time. Exhausted physically and mentally, she shuffled into the kitchen. She'd never moved so slow in her life, always full of energy and ready to work. This time, though... All Kenna really wanted to do was sleep. So, coffee. Coffee is what she needed. Force enough caffeine into her bloodstream that no matter how awful she felt Kenna would wake up and be productive. Distract herself again because, if she didn't, she might just wither away.

Waiting by the Keurig, Kenna closed her eyes. Took in the warm, bitter smell of her favorite brew. Felt the cold air conditioning prick at her skin. Listened to the sound of Sammie calling her name.

Her eyes flew open and she looked around. There, leaning against the marble counter, stood Sammie wearing her signature pink scarf and a soft smile.

"Hi, Kenna. It's been a while."

Kenna stared. Brought a hand to her mouth. "You-... I'm-... Samantha?"

"I'm here."

She took a step forward only to take two steps back, shaking her head. "No. No, no. No, you're not." Kenna closed her eyes. "This can't be real, you-..." Her voice dropped to a whisper: "You're dead, Sammie." It was all just a dream. She just needed to wake herself up somehow. Pinch her skin, will herself to recognize fiction from reality. After a beat Kenna reopened her eyes, only to find Sammie standing several feet closer than before. She inhaled sharply as a cold hand slid into her own, lacing their fingers together.

"You have to talk to the others."

Dumbstruck, Kenna let Sammie lead her outside to the pool deck. Dropped to her knees as the girl crouched down, tugging her along. They looked into the water together, Kenna's reflection the only one looking back. "What is it?"

"I believe in you."

And then, suddenly, she was falling in.

The water was oddly warm, as though heated, and wrapped around her like a blanket. Washed away the memory of cold fingers tangled with hers. Lit her up from her toes to her nose, skin she did not realized had chilled slowly thawing out. Everything was safe. Everything was warm.

Her head broke through the surface, the air above no colder than the water itself. Everything was warm...

"Feels nice, doesn't it?"

Kenna wiped the moisture from her eyes and blinked the remaining droplets away. A man with a fish for a head looked at her from atop a colorful raft. Around her were other similar floats, each occupied by an individual or two. Some people floated on their own while others shared, arms wrapped around one another. "Um..." She looked back at the fish man, unsure. "Where am I?"

"The Other Place's very own Flooding River, of course," he said smoothly. Sipped on an almost comically large glass. "The best place to be when you're feeling stressed."

"But it's-... It's flooded. Isn't that bad?"

The fish man chuckled. "Not at all. If it weren't, we wouldn't have enough room for everyone." Then he leaned forward, narrowly missing tipping into the water. "Let me guess, your name is... Kenna? Am I right?"

Kenna's eyebrows rose. "Yes...?"

"You sound unsure."

"I am Kenna, just-... How did you know my name?"

He leaned back into the comfort of his raft. Took another sip, this one ending with a satisfied smack of his lips. "A girl came by. Real nice. Pretty smile and all. Said you needed to find your friends."

Putting the pieces together, Kenna's lips parted in awe. Sammie?

"Anywho, hop on a raft and go with the flow. The river will take you to your friends."

"But I don't know where-"

"Just go with the flow."

Left with no other choice, Kenna procured a raft of her own and let the river take her. Before she forgot, she looked over her shoulder at the fish man and cupped her hands around her mouth. She seemed to be drifting downstream faster than the others. "I didn't get your name!"

Thrusting his glass into the air, the fish man responded: "I am the Lifeguard!"

***
At first Kenna tried memorizing her surroundings, so as to find her way back, but found it impossible; the Other Place's landscape was an eclectic mishmash of juxtaposing scenery. With trees in the shape of lollipops and clouds pink like cotton candy passing her by, Kenna couldn't help but wonder if she still lay in her hospital bed, her trip home nothing more than a fever dream.
 
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Music blasted from the speakers as a multitude of people moved to the song's beat. The warehouse was packed - a sea of bodies moving in time to a rhythm. The faces surrounding her belonged to strangers, some were people Joane had seen on campus, but none of them were people she'd actively tried to befriend.

She was a fish out of water, bobbing her head awkwardly to the song's beat as her grip on her red solo cup tightened.

This wasn't her scene, crowds and music loud enough to burst eardrums were never her scene, yet ever since Sammie had died, she'd tried so desperately to distance herself from the Joane she was in high school. I'll become someone else and I'll forget all of it. I'll forget Sammie and life will go back to the way it used to be. She told herself the same thing over and over again. It was the reason why she ignored Corey's texts, and the same reason why she told her mother she had a final coming up when they informed her about Kenna's hospital admission.

You're a fucking terrible person, Joane.

Uh-huh, she already knew that. Groaning, she stared into her half-empty glass. Parties were supposed to be fun, maybe if she got hammered enough she'd stop thinking about her friends and start thinking about her headache instead. Joane downed the drink in three big gulps, sputtering as it went down. The drink was liquid fire in her throat, that, and she wasn't exactly a drinker.

One glass became two then three.

The party became tolerable, and she was dancing the night away with a boy from her history class.

"I sit behind you," he said as he swayed to the music. "You seriously don't remember me?"

It was getting harder to respond. "Uh, my memory is crap. Richard, right?"

"Close enough, it's Richmond. Man, I've been sitting behind you for like two months now."

"Aw, my bad." It wasn't good conversation, but it was better than awkwardly standing in one corner. Anyway, Richmond was cute in a dorky, boyish kind of way. She eyed his blonde hair and his thick-rimmed glasses as she tried to think of something to say - hopefully something intelligible, maybe something fun, but she wasn't going to get her hopes up. "You from here?"

"Uh, yeah. I live on campus. We see each other in the cafeteria."

"Oh... right."

"You, uh, you okay?"

She squinted. Her face was warm and her balance was bad and she was probably drunk right now. But otherwise, she was good, besides the whole not knowing how to talk like a proper non-boring human being. Yep, she was perfectly fine. At least, until she noticed a familiar face in the crowd. Immediately, Joane dropped her glass.

Sammie.

"Hey, you okay?"

Richmond was ignored completely. Joane began walking, taking large strides as she made her way towards her friend. She crashed face-first into another girl who told her to "watch it," but she pressed on in a blind panic. Sammie was there.

Eventually, she reached her friend. "I must be really wasted right now."

"I never pegged you for a party person, Joanie. You don't look happy here."

Right, of course, she was horribly miserable here but it was better than staying in her dorm room and just thinking about what could have been and what she'd never ever be able to get back. "A lot has changed, Sammie. You're just a drunken hallucination, and tomorrow I'll wake up with hangover and regret all my life choices."

Sammie frowned. "I think you're running away from your problems."

"What?" Something inside Joane snapped. "You of all people... you're the one who ran away."

Sammie's eyes flitted to the floor for a moment. "You should talk to the others Joane."

The was the last thing Sammie said before she vanished without a trace. The next thing Joane knew, she was staring into a body-length mirror on the wall. There was no Sammie just her confused self staring back at her. She made her way to the mirror, eyed her reflection and slapped at her face. The longer she stared, the more she noticed the faint outlines within the mirror.

A sandy beach...

"WATCH OUT!"

A body slammed into her own, Joane brought her arms up to shield her face and expected a crash and shower of broken glass. Instead, she fell straight through the mirror as if it were a portal to another dimension.

***
When Joane opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed were the ships sailing through the night sky, large bronze ships of clockwork and wood and steam. The ships moved past constellations and her eyes flitted after the strange sight. They were chasing after a whale.

Funny, whales couldn't fly. Then again, neither could ships.

The absurdity of it all had yet to sink in, and Joane remained lying motionless on the sand, as the waves crashed against the shore and as the smell of salt and the sea invaded her senses.

"Hey, kid, you're not dead are you?"

Half-lidded eyes snapped open, and with all the grace of a beached whale, she rolled onto her stomach and groaned. She looked up, standing before her was a Bear in a Hawaiian shirt. He had a pair of sunglasses perched on his head.

"What?" She sputtered, wide-eyed, afraid. "What the hell?"

"Annual beach party," the bear explained as he nodded towards the cluster of people gathered around the speakers on the shore. There was a mermaid singing in a microphone as people danced excitedly to her music. "You must have had too much to drink." The bear explained as he leaned in to sniff her. "Yikes, you should sober up."

Joane pushed herself onto her hands and knees and began to heave. The gin tasted worse going up than it did down, something she found hard to believe considering how terrible it tasted to begin with. She emptied her stomach on the sand and didn't even notice the disgusted look on the bear's face. To his credit, he waited until she hauled herself to her feet.

"There's some water and food over by the tables. C'mon kid, I'll walk you there."

Nothing made sense, so Joane did the only thing she could and followed the bear back to the refreshments table.
 
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The sweet, sticky smell of cannabis hit his nose and Corey tried not to grimace. Watched instead, with feigned intrigue, as the blunt passed hands until it eventually reached him. He bit the inside of his cheek; a secret act so as not to show hesitance. He wanted them to like him, after all. Wanted to seem cool. Corey was tired of being alone.

"Well?" Expectant eyes landed on him, burning his skin with judgement. "Are you going to or not?"

"Y-Yeah, sorry..." Corey swallowed drily. Took the tobacco paper between his lips and inhaled. His eyes widened, mouth and lungs flooding with smoke. He clapped a hand over his mouth, unable to stop himself from coughing. Smoke burst through the gaps between his fingers. A waste. This was Corey's first time smoking but he knew that much; Google told him so.

His new friends laughed, turning his cheeks pink. "I thought you said you did this before."

"Yeah, man, you looked terrified."

"Laaame."

Corey muffled another cough before passing the blunt to the next person. After a while and several more tries his head felt cloudy, his skin warm. Despite the burning of his throat, Corey didn't think he minded the feeling. Actually, it was kind of... nice. Made it hard to think. Hard to remember. Hard to distinguish who was who and where he was. He looked to the girl next to him, could pretend her short blonde hair was actually long and brown with blunted bangs. The boy across from him, his t-shirt an all too familiar coffee smock. Another girl, skin several shades darker than it appeared in the dim lighting.

Someone was missing, though. Four wasn't enough. Would never be enough.

So he took hit after hit until his skull vibrated behind closed eyelids, hunched over, heaving mistakes and memories and the feeling of being accepted into a toilet bowl. Slumped against the wall, listening to it all wash away.

If only his eyes were as dry as his cotton-mouth.

***​

Soft. Corey closed his eyes, fingers tracing lines through thick fur. Let the soothing vibrations on his stomach - Mama Peggy's purring - drown out the noise from downstairs. Blur the words 'unacceptable' and 'disappointment' before they reached his ears. He melted further into the sheets of his bed, rolling into a fetal position and taking Mama Peggy with him despite her mewl of protest. Nose pressed into his pillow, Corey wondered when the last time he did laundry was. No wonder they found out; his whole room reeked.

"Poor Mama Peggy. It stinks in here."

He tensed, a delayed reaction. Slowly opened his eyes. Bit by bit, the image of shirt, scarf, lips, nose, eyes built into a ghost from his childhood. Crouched by his bed, elbows propped and chin cupped, was Sammie.

"Huh. You don't look happy to see me. Of all four-..."

Without thinking, Corey reached out to touch her face. Cold. His breath hitched. Cold meant real, even if it usually meant dead. Which she definitely was; he'd gone to her funeral. Spent an entire year trying to preserve what she left behind only to watch it fall apart in the end. He sat up carefully, head swimming and eyes red. This wasn't a hallucination, wasn't make-believe. This was... an omen. A punishment for failing. Maybe even a sign from God himself. He'd been waiting for this - the day that everything changed. The day he was chosen for something great.

Instead of deny her existence, Corey acknowledged it. Accepted it. Asked for it: "Please don't leave."

Sammie looked taken aback, though Corey couldn't figure out why. He'd prepared for something like this. All of those hazy philosophical discussions late at night hadn't been for nothing. The question 'What would you do if your dead best friend came back from the grave?' had been asked too many times to count. His answer? Beg her to stay.

Taking his hand in hers, Sammie tugged Corey to his feet. He wobbled towards the full-length mirror across the room. Stared at Sammie as she turned to stand beside him, nodding at the reflective surface. Looking to the mirror, Corey only saw himself. His chest seized with worry, but a cold hand on his shoulder eased his fears.

He wasn't alone.

"You need to talk to the others, Corey," Sammie said.

Corey shook his head. "I've tried."

"Try again," she insisted, pushing him gently towards the mirror. "Try again, for me." At that, Corey went without protest. Slipped through the mirror and let himself fall.

He woke to the sound of laughter. The color green - his favorite, as of late. Sitting up, Corey looked around. Saw strange sights in the sky - Is that a flying ship? - and just as odd ones on the ground. In front of him stood a statue with the face of a smiling man. He had no arms nor legs. Corey stared, wondering how he ate with no hands.

More laughter, this time from behind him. "He looks a bit confused, ah?" Corey looked over his shoulder at another statue. "Might be the one she mentioned. You think?"

"I do think. Hey, boy, are you Corey by chance?"

He looked between the statues as they talked, movements sluggish. "I'm Corey. Is this about Sammie?"

"Ah, told ya! Didn't I tell ya it was him?"

"I didn't disagree, now hush," the first statue rolled its eyes. Then, at Corey, it smiled. "Go on, boy. Stand up. Brush yerself off. Your friends are waitin' for ya."

Corey's chest filled with excitement and he scrambled to his feet, nearly toppling over. He felt lighter than any high could provide. "Whoa. They're actually waiting for me? Where?"

"Indeed. Best get goin', now. Us Green Men will show you the way." It was then Corey noticed the trail of statues proceeding across a stretch of pink desert, accented with thick green vines and large party floats of different sizes and designs. A parade. Corey liked parades.

He ran forward, nearly tripping in the sand but managing to stay upright. Corey also liked music and dancing, but it wasn't the promise of a good time that spurred him forward. Rather, the hope of rewinding time.

His friends were waiting.
 
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She downed two glasses of water in under a minute, but she didn't feel any better. She was still on the beach and still surrounded by a cast of partying anthropomorphic creatures. Animals dancing on the beach and merpeople playing volleyball in the ocean. The only sane conclusion to all this? She'd smashed her head into the wall at the party and was hallucinating. Yes, she'd wake up soon enough at the campus clinic with a horrible headache and everything would go back to normal.

At least, that was what Joane told herself.

"You don't look so good," the bear was frowning. "We've got some food too."

"What is this place?" She asked instead.

The bear rubbed the back of his head with his paw. "Summerset Beach, I'm guessing you aren't from here. Welcome to the Other Place, you picked a rather festive time to join us. The annual beach party is the best."

She was no longer listening to the talking bear. Under normal circumstances, a talking bear would have grabbed her attention, but nothing about this was normal. Falling into the mirror like she was frigging Alice in some live-action Lewis Caroll movie? Seeing Sammie who'd been dead for more than a year? Getting marooned on an island with talking animals?

The cogs and gears inside her brain were working overtime to make sense of all that was happening, and Joane would have remained lost in thought if not for the sudden crashing of the waves against the shore. The tide was rising, and along with it was a raft and... Kenna? She blinked rapidly, and there was no denying what she'd seen.

The bear elbowed her lightly. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You don't even know half of it, talking bear." Shakily, and on legs that felt more like jelly than anything else, Joane darted back towards the shore. She waved her hands in the air and called out. "Kenna? Kenna is that you?" It was good to see a familiar face, and amidst the chaos of the evening, Joane had forgotten how much of a jerk she'd been to Kenna in the past year.
 
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Washing ashore, Kenna stumbled out of her raft and wiped heavy, wet curls from her face. Leveled the ocean behind her with a stone-cold glare. "'Follow the river' my butt," she huffed. When the river had split, taking her down a path towards the ocean, Kenna nearly had a heart attack. Follow the river is what he'd said, not follow the river to the ocean.

Or was it go with the flow? Kenna couldn't remember and decided she didn't much like going with the flow; too many possibilities for error when dealing with the unknown. Which, really, included this entire new world where the laws of physics and everything else she'd spent hours studying her way to a 4.0 GPA did not seem to apply.

Wringing her hair out, Kenna turned towards the beach at the sound of her name being called. Familiar, that voice... Her eyes scanned the crowd of anthropomorphic party-goers until she spotted one that didn't quite fit: A human girl with brown hair and familiar blunt bangs.

Instinctively, Kenna hurried towards her. One, two, three - Wait. She paused, memories of waking alone in a hospital bed hitting her. Even if Joane had tried to visit, like Corey, she'd still have been alone thanks to Grandma, but it was the thought that counted. Joane hadn't come. Simply sent her a half-assed Get Well text message that never evolved into anything.

Kenna frowned. Wanted to turn tail and get back on that raft and ride away to wherever it'd take her. Home, the Flooded River, anywhere that didn't have Joane calling out to her like nothing had happened. While a familiar face amidst the strange new world that was The Other Place, Kenna hardly found the sight of her old friend comforting.

If anything, it made her mad.

You need to talk to the others, Sammie had said. How did Sammie expect her to do that, though, when all Kenna wanted to do now was run before she risked chewing Joane out. Please talk to the others.

Clenching her fists and biting her tongue, Kenna took more steps - these ones slower - until she came to stand in front of Joane. Tried to remind herself, in an attempt to be calm, that at least Joane had messaged her. She'd acknowledged the situation, unlike Abel who'd cut everyone out completely.

Exhaling the red hot anger, Kenna's eyes flicked from Joane's. It was much easier to make eye contact when she was ready to tear her a new one, but now? Kenna just felt awkward. Out of place.

"It's me... Hi. Long time no see."
 
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It really was Kenna. Joane stared on, a bundle of mixed feelings. She was relieved to see her friend again, relieved to have something familiar in such an upside down world. In fact, she'd forgotten how much of a jerk she'd been until Kenna finally opened her mouth. "Yeah, you're right. It's been ages." Shame washed over her. Kenna had always been there for them when they needed her, had always taken it upon herself to coddle everyone when they were sad or feeling sick. When Sammie first died, Kenna had tried to keep them together, but Abel was the first to go and she followed shortly after.

Her eyes flitted to the sand, unable to keep contact with Kenna's own.

Joane, you're a horrible person.

"It's, um, it's nice to see you. Really, Kenna." What was there to say? I'm sorry I didn't visit? She'd distanced herself from all of them on purpose. Cutting ties and moving on had always been the point. Saying sorry to Kenna's face wouldn't change why she'd done what she did, and it wouldn't change the facts that, while she still cared about them, she didn't really want much to do with them anymore - one of the reasons she'd moved away for college and blew off Corey's texts.

They wanted to cling to the past, she wanted to leave it behind.

"I heard things have been rough lately, I'm sorry it's been so shitty. You seem to be doing better? Uh, how did you get here?" Horrible conversation started, but Joane stood their awkwardly, trying not to seem like an even bigger jerk as she tried to dig for answers. Hopefully, Kenna would be more focused on trying to leave this strange new world as well.
 
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Grandmother had raised her to be graceful, poised, civil even in the face of adversity. So, that's how she acted. Masked her hurt with a costume of amicability and swallowed the feelings of loathing in effort to smile. It came across forced, unnatural. Kenna didn't care. Knew it would - knew there was no way in hell she'd be able to fool Joane into thinking that bygones were bygones because they weren't. But there were bigger things to worry about, Kenna realized, than who had and who hadn't visited her at her lowest point. Like Sammie, for example, who'd brought her to this confusing new world and asked that she play nice with the others.

"Likewise," was all Kenna said about seeing Joane again. Let her eyes roam the beach - the sand, the party-goers, the landscape beyond, anywhere but Joane's eyes. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said, gaze settling on the drawstrings of Joane's sweatshirt hoodie. Blinked quickly, then. "Actually, you might," Kenna said, gesturing to their newfound crazy environment.

"Sammie came to my house. Told me to... 'talk to the others' and then pushed me in my pool," she explained. "I resurfaced here, but... in another area. The 'Flooding River' is what they called it. Set me on a raft and, well, here I am." Kenna finally looked up, brown eyes meeting Joane's. "You?"

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Corey didn't participate in sports for a reason; he hated running. Still, even after everything, he loved his friends more. Pushed through the protesting of his muscles and the laboring of his breaths in order to reach the front of the parade some distance away that felt, quite frankly, like miles. It couldn't have been that far, though; Corey ran the entire time and, in the real world, he hardly had the stamina to keep up a jog down two neighborhood blocks. Not to mention, Corey still felt a little light-headed from earlier.

Or maybe it was and The Other Place helped him out a bit. Corey didn't know, care, nor feel reason to complain. Especially not when he slowed to a stop at the top of a sandy hill, yellow desert landscape reaching out into ocean blue. His eyes scanned the shoreline, seeing a party of sorts. The attendees looked just as bizarre as the ones he'd traveled with - anthropomorphic creatures in human clothing, all lounging about and enjoying their day. Or night. Whichever it was.

Two individuals in particular were not like the rest. Slim in comparison to the others, who looked almost like they could be stuffed animals, and distinctly human-like. Long brown hair, human skin colors of opposite shades, and a familiar hoodie he'd know anywhere.

"Joane!" A smile split his lips and Corey slid down the sandy slope, "Kenna! Hey, guys!" He stumbled at the bottom, the sand deeper than he anticipated, but didn't stop running until he came up beside them chest-heaving and eyes still red but practically sparkling. "Hey. Hey, guys. You're here!"

Kenna's eyes widened and a hand reached for her nose, bridge wrinkling and brows pinching. "Um, Corey, you-..."

"Stink," he said, unphased. "Yeah, Sammie said the same thing. Sorry about that. I should have showered before coming here."

"You... sound like you wanted to come here."

Corey raised both brows at that. "Um, yeah? Sammie told me to meet with you guys and this place is pretty neat. What? You guys didn't want to...?"

"Well..."
 
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Kenna was merely being polite. The girl had never been a particularly good liar, and Joane could easily see through her friend's feigned smiles. She understood - she'd been a grade-A jerk after all - but it didn't make things any less awkward. "Oh, I'll believe you. Try me. I've had the craziest night, like on any other day, you wouldn't ever believe it."

A story about how Sammie had appeared to Kenna - how Sammie had shoved Kenna into a pool.

Joane believed every word. "The same thing happened to me. Not the pool or ending up in the Flooding River, but I saw her too." There was a pang of pain somewhere in her chest. Talking about Sammie was painful, she was sure it was the same for Kenna. In a way, Sammie was a reminder of why they were no longer friends. "I was... at a college party." Her cheeks burned at the admission, she knew what it implied—that she had time to get wasted with a bunch of people she barely knew, but not enough time to visit one of her closest friends at the hospital. "Sammie appeared, told me I was..." She stopped. Told me I was running away from my problems. "She told me I needed to talk to everyone then pushed me through a mirror. I ended up on the beach, ran into a talking bear, then saw you on a raft. The rest is history."

"Joane!"

She blinked once then twice. That hadn't been Kenna. It took her a few moments to realize who the excited voice belonged to - Corey - another one of her friends she'd ignored because she was 'just too busy with school.' She didn't know whether to be happy she and Kenna had company, or to be guilty that she'd been such a horrid friend to both.

He kept running until he was beside them and Joane stopped herself from covering her nose. It would be kind of hypocritical considering she smelled like day-old booze and probably cigarettes too.

"If you're here, that means... Abel should be here too." Her eyebrows furrowed. Abel had been the first to leave. Shortly after Sammie's funeral, he dropped contact with them. She hadn't seen him for over a year. With Kenna and Corey, communication ceased slowly. They hung out regularly at first, but there had always been a Sammie-shaped-hole in their group. The hangouts turned to group chats, to occasional text messages before fizzling out almost completely.

Because it had happened gradually, it hadn't hurt as much as she thought it would.

Abel was a different story. One day he was there, the next day he wasn't. He didn't even bother to try and stick around. She resented him in a way, but she understood. What she'd done to Corey and Kenna hadn't been less cruel. Yes, it had bee less immediate, but she'd no doubt hurt their feelings as well.

I'm sorry.

Those were the words she ought to have said, but she couldn't. Instead, she turned to Corey and tried to look him in the eyes after dozens of ignored texts and misscalls. "Are you sure you're alright, Corey? Your eyes are kind of red." She already had an idea of what was going on, but with nothing else to say, asked anyway.

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Corey's voice echoed through the Other Place.

Abel recognized it, but he wasn't ready to believe that he and his friends had been whisked off to Wonderland. He'd fallen off the 18th floor of his apartment complex and had died - at least that was his ongoing theory for now. Until, he saw a familiar face perched on a sandy hill in the distance. It was the same face he'd run into at the coffee shop where he worked.

Corey would come in and talk to him, he would tell Corey to get lost. It was the same story day in and day out, he knew Corey's annoying voice well enough, and there was no mistaking the boy on the sandy hill was his ex-friend.

The cobblestone path he'd been following came to an end, soon it was just sandy dunes and the beach in the distance. Abel kept his eyes on Corey, watching as the boy ran into... Kenna and Joane.

Sammie's ghost was real?

No. His falling off the building theory was still more believable. Anything was more believable.

"Corey. Joane. Kenna." He called out as he descended one of the sand dunes. It was a curt greeting, accompanied by an awkward nod of the head. Abel looked more confused than anything else.

"Looks like the gang's all here," Joane commented. It was nice to know she wouldn't be stuck in the Other Place by her lonesome, but she couldn't say she was genuinely happy to be with these specific people. Once upon a time, they'd been friends, but the fairy tale had ended long ago when Sammie ingested an entire bottle of Tylenol.

Abel nearly lost his balance on the sand, but he righted himself, and made his way to the group. "I take it a ghost sent you all here too? Or are we... in hell? You guys didn't happen to die did you? I might have jumped off a building."
 
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“I hope so. It’s been forever since I’ve actually gotten more than ‘Corey, I’m busy working’ out of him.” He hoped Abel was there - figured he would be, if Sammie wanted them to all talk - but focused his attention on the two that were in front of him. For now.

Seeing both Kenna and Joane again felt better than any high Corey had hit. Better yet, talking to them, something he hadn’t done in months - though not for a lack of trying. It had hurt, of course, to be so blatantly ignored as he was, but Corey understood. He had to. Corey hadn’t been immune to the loss of Sammie and, as such, knew their pain. Whereas the others had isolated themselves, he seeked warmth. Mutual understanding. Love.

He couldn’t blame them if that wasn’t how they’d coped. Not everyone grieved in a healthy way, though Corey would definitely not call living ninety-percent of his days stoned an appropriate way of grieving. Perhaps he wouldn’t have had to step out of his head if he hadn’t been abandoned, left to rot in the past like the memory of Sammie’s passing.

But he would not dwell on that. Refused to, because he wasn’t the only victim here. They all were; simple, unfortunate pawns meandering their way through the game of life. Even Sammie, who’d started it all.

No, Corey would not play the blame game. Because, if he did, he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop.

Smiling instead, Corey let out a breathy laugh. “I’m good, Jo. The eyes are… allergies,” he lied. Somewhere inside Corey knew that was a tough sale - he’d never had allergies before - but he wasn’t about to bring down the mood with knowledge of his newfound dependency on smoking. Clearing his throat, he quirked a brow at the two. Blatantly ignored the smell of cigarettes wafting off of Joane and the bags of exhaustion Kenna wore under her eyes.

“It’s great to-”

“Corey. Joane. Kenna.”

Corey’s eyes widened and he turned to Abel. Watched him descend the sand dunes. An even bigger smile split his lips. Abel Simmons, the Abel Simmons, was here. How had Sammie managed that? Corey had relentlessly tried to spark conversations with him over the last year, none of them going anywhere but Abel politely asking him to leave.

Needless to say, Abel was a sight for sore eyes. Corey sent silent thanks to Sammie, whom he assumed could hear his thoughts because, hello, she was a ghost. Ghosts could do some cool stuff. Like telepathy. All the movies said so.

“Hey, man!” Corey beamed. Beside him, Kenna stood still. Tense. Quiet. He didn’t like her when she was like this; a lid about to blow, barely concealed beneath a facade of calm she liked to think fooled anyone. Though that’s to be expected, Corey empathized, Abel did just drop us like last season’s fashion trends. “Yep. We’re all here.”

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A party? A party. Kenna had never been to a college party nor did she have the desire to; such things were nothing more than distractions from what mattered and a breeding ground for bad decisions. A perfectionist and proud, Kenna prided herself on her ability to think rationally. Think with her future in mind - unlike Corey and Joane, apparently. The smell of stale booze and cigarettes from Joane plus the unmistakable stench of weed from Corey disappointed her.

Sammie’s death had affected all of them in different ways, but the least her old friends could do was take care of themselves. Still, despite her judgement, she hid behind the veil of a forced smile. Amicability. Be civil. You don’t want to be the bad guy, do you, Kenna?

No. She wasn’t going to be the bad guy, even if she had ignored Corey’s texts for the last few months. Been the one to outright tell him to give up, that nobody was interested in being friends.

It had been a lie, of course; Kenna had wanted so desperately for her friends to be there after Sammie’s death, but she learned to cope. She hardened. Corey, however, did not. Kenna hadn’t been able to handle his meltdowns while trying to prove herself worthy of lacrosse captain and ensuring a spot in her school’s Summa Cum Laude bracket. It’d been a hard thing to do, letting him go, but she had.

She felt guilty about it every day. Even more so now that he was here, standing right in front of her, with red eyes and a head no doubt filled with marijuana. Joane was in no better shape, though she'd brought it on herself. Kenna could have helped - would have helped - but, like with Abel, had been pushed away. Corey on the other hand... he'd been asking for help.

Did I do that to him? Did we do that to him? Kenna didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to know the answer, though she speculated it all the same. Her gut churned with disappointment not only in her old friends but herself.

I was supposed to protect them.

And then Abel showed up. Motherfu- No, she wasn’t going to stoop to such foul language. To put it simply, Kenna was upset with him. Had been the entire year following his drop off their radars. She figured the sense of abandonment she felt only magnified tenfold for Corey - yet another thing to feel guilty about - and, personally, wanted to throttle Abel for it. How Corey managed to smile so genuinely at them all was beyond Kenna.

Abel had started it all, the leaving. While Kenna considered herself a mature person of sorts, she didn’t know if she had it in her to forgive him - just like she doubted she could forgive Joane for not visiting the hospital when Kenna was admitted. It was hard letting go. How the two had cut them off so easily, especially Abel, baffled her. So, to keep the peace, she sealed her mouth shut and refused to speak.

Until Abel mentioned jumping off a building.

“What the hell?” Something snapped inside Kenna and she narrowed her eyebrows. “You jumped off a fucking building? Are you insane?”

Corey visibly paled beside her, though whether or not that was at her reaction was up for debate. “Hey, guys, it happens-”

“No it doesn’t,” Kenna snapped. “If he jumped off a building, it was no accident. It was-...”

Suicide.

She swallowed. Pinched the bridge of her nose. Then, stared Abel down with a fire in her eyes, tear ducts pricking hot. They'd already lost one member of their group to suicide - they didn't need another. Not when they could have helped; not when Abel had done everything to push them away, to keep them from helping.

“Thankfully, I don’t think this is the afterlife,” she said. “Otherwise we’d have another corpse to mourn for." Or four, if we're all here. "Jesus, just-... just think of others for once, Abel, rather than yourself.”

And with that, despite the protests from Corey (“Kenna, wait! Where are you- Come back! He said might, not did!”), Kenna made her way back to the shoreline fully intent on grabbing the raft and heading out.

Only, the raft was no longer there.
 
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Corey was smiling and it was a real and genuine smile.

Abel didn't quite know what to feel. How are you so Goddamn stubborn? Why do you keep trying? Those were the words he wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut and stared at his old friend. Corey smelled like weed and bad decisions, but he wore the same hopeful look on his face - the same expectant puppy look that made Abel feel so... so angry.

It was a difficult feeling to describe, one he didn't quite understand himself. But Corey constantly trying to fix what couldn't be fixed irked him in a way nothing else could. Sammie - the happiest girl he knew - had ingested a bottle of Tylenol and had died alone in her room. Nobody knew why, they were her best friends and they didn't know either.

Corey could try all he liked, nothing would be the same again.

Abel was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't quite notice Kenna and her simmering anger, at least, not until she blew up at him. She called him selfish, which he couldn't deny. Still, how could he care for others when he barely cared about himself? She was doing it again, trying to be the mom and guilt trip them into doing the right thing.

As Kenna ran away, he scowled. "I said might have." He was being an ass, taking it out on those who were still standing beside him. Abel had mastered the art of getting under people's skin and not caring about how they felt or the consequences. "I'm not sure if I actually jumped, but I was planning to. I figured if I took a leap of faith, I'd go places." He had the gall to crack a wry grin. "Like all over the Goddamn pavement, and maybe on the hood of some fancy ass car. Better places."

If Joane and Corey were horrified, Abel didn't seem to notice or care at all.


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"What the hell, Abel?" Joane stared at him in disbelief. Abel had always been standoffish, but he'd never been downright cruel. How could he joke about that? How could he treat Kenna that way and stare at Corey with so much contempt? Dropping off their radars was one thing, but going out of his way to be hurtful was another. "She was just looking out for you."

"If I needed some motherly advise," Abel retorted. "I'd go home."

"You know," Joane answered. She felt the beginning of headache. "You're being such an ass right now." She shook her head before turning her gaze to Corey. "Let's go get Kenna." Without waiting for a response from Corey or Abel, she closed the distance between her and the blonde and hooked her arm underneath his. She began pulling Corey away and towards the shore.

Kenna was some distance away from the rest of them, but she didn't have anywhere to go. Despite dragging Corey behind her, Joane was easily able to catch up to Kenna. She noticed her friend was looking for something and staring out into the ocean. She wanted very much to reach out to Kenna and console her, but Joane didn't have the words.

They were lost in a strange place, brought by the ghost of their deceased friend - it was a lot to unpack. It was whole fucking lot - the stuff of fairy tales, something she stopped believing in after grade school.

"Kenna... do you want to talk?" Not the best way to start considering Joane didn't even want to talk, not to mention, she didn't know what to even say. But they had to start somewhere. "We're all here and Sammie wanted us to talk to each other. Abel... he was just being an ass." Her points weren't even connecting. What exactly was she trying to say? The girl started to stutter badly and she blamed her lack of coherence on the alcohol. She didn't feel drunk, not anymore. There was a pounding in her head though and she could still smell the alcohol on her clothes and breath. "I should have visited you." She released Corey and took slow, hesitant steps towards Kenna. Joane reached for the girl's shoulder. "I'm sorry."
 
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Ever since his first couple of amateur pirouettes and the mental transmogrification of his kitchen island counter into a barre, Corey knew the look of contempt. He'd grown used to it over the years; learned to brush it under the rug until he was alone. As much as having Abel look at him in the same way his own father did, Corey wasn't alone. He couldn't crawl under the thickness of his bed covers and hide from the judgmental stares. And, really, he didn't even know why Abel seemed to dislike him so much.

They used to be such good friends. Sure, he could understand being pushed away - all the books about grief that he'd read since Sammie died said to expect as much - but to be outright stared at like he was the source of all Abel's anger? That was new.

Still, Corey expertly brushed it under the rug, even when Kenna went and blew up at Abel. If anything, he'd done his best to calm her down; had tried, in a roundabout way to please all parties, to defend Abel. The last thing a suicidal person needed was guilt added atop of their already heavy shoulders, so Corey wasn't going to do that. No matter how much he wanted to, because Abel's response made his gut churn.

So instead of stay and talk down the morbidity or Abel's thoughts - or, at least, try to - Corey let himself be silently tugged down the beach. He shot a concerned glance over his shoulder, however, and frowned.

He didn't like who Abel had become but, surely, their old friend was in there somewhere. They just had to find him.

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Running fingers through her hair, Kenna resisted the urge to pull the curls taut. The only thing that stopped her was the dedication she'd put in for the last fifteen-ish years to growing it out. Instead, she exhaled long and slow, an effort to rid her body of all the negativity swelling inside. It didn't work, though; all Kenna could think about was Sammie, the pills, the phone call, the red lights and a hospital room of crying people.

That'd almost been Abel. Would his old friends have been notified, or would they have gone years without knowing of his fatal jump only to find out in passing with a stranger who knew more than they had? She became absently aware of Joane and Corey approaching, the former trying to speak to her, but Kenna did not want to talk.

She wanted to hit something - a desire routinely satisfied by her dedication to lacrosse. Needed to distract herself from the nightmare that Sammie left in the wake of her death, but there were no textbooks to study in the Other Place. There was only talking and that was getting them nowhere. It seemed to only make things worse.

Or maybe it was just Kenna? She'd never been good at dealing with stress. The thought that she was overreacting only made her more irritable, more cranky. Kenna had taken the title of "mom friend" and run with it at an early age, but weren't parents supposed to be the pillars upholding the foundation? It felt like Sammie had not only taken her own life, but Kenna's strength, too.

A hand settled on her shoulder and Kenna tensed. Dragged her hands down her face before dropping them to her sides. Joane was sorry. Kenna didn't know if that would change anything - she was still mad, still hurt - but she needed to start somewhere. Even if she didn't fully forgive Joane, she could pretend to until she made herself believe the lie. Then, maybe, everything would be okay.

"I understand," she said. "I am... sorry, too." I'm sorry for letting you two fall so far. I should have been there. I should have stopped you.

Corey came up beside them, then, a sad but trying smile curling his lips into a crescent. "We've all got things to be sorry for. It's probably why Sammie brought us here. To... fix things."

Having been raised by a woman of wealth, Kenna grew up tossing away broken things and replacing them. Perhaps that was why she'd given up so easily when Abel and Joane left? Only, her group of friends had been too precious to replace.

Sammie had handed them the long-lost pieces; now they just needed to put them back together.
 
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Kenna had nothing to be sorry for, but Joane didn't want to shoulder the blame on her own so she nodded her head like a dumb bobblehead that was nodding for no apparent reason. She didn't know the details about the Kenna-Correy friendship fallout - she'd left the two of them on their own - but she knew Kenna had tried to reach out.

Kenna had tried and she hadn't. She should have visited, should have called at the very least.

Forcing a smile felt like swallowing broken glass. You're fake and terrible, Joane. Just terrible. Hoping, to silence the thoughts in her head, she leaned in for an awkward hug. It lasted for a fraction of second. "Corey's right, we're here for a reason. The four of us... it's too specific to be anything else." Not to mention, The Other Place was a fever dream in tangible form. None of this should have been possible, and the only logical explanation was that some higher power - or Sammie - had bent the rules of reality to bring them here. Joane was trying to rationalize it, but didn't quite believe her own reasoning.

"We should calm down... calm down and think of a way to get out of here." From the corner of her eye, she could see Abel making his way up the hill. He had his hands in his pockets and kept a fair distance away from them. It didn't look like he would be apologizing anytime soon so Joane ignored his presence.
"Are you all just going to stand there, don't we have other matters to attend to?"

The nonchalant look on Abel's face rubbed Joane the wrong way. Maybe she was still drunk, but something about the utter lack of care for Corey's and Kenna's feelings angered her. Yes, she'd left the same way Abel had. Yes, she'd be an utterly horrible friend and had chosen to drown herself in school work and parties instead of visiting Kenna at the hospital... but despite all that she did care. It was the reason why she'd followed the girl up the hill in the first place.

"Abel, why are you being so difficult?"

"And you care because?"

Another fight was brewing just beneath the surface, but before Joane could fling a retort, she stopped. Abel smirked at her, but Joane was far too busy staring at something else to care - Sammie was waving in the distance. She was below the hill, and she was motioning for them to come towards her. Joane blinked once then twice - It was really Sammie, the same Sammie who'd shown up at the party and pushed her through the mirror. "Guys, it's her."​


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Sammie this, Sammie that... why was the universe doing this to them?

There friend was dead. They had attended her funeral. This entire ordeal was sulfuric acid in his still open wounds. He didn't hate his ex-friends, far from it. If anything, the way he was reacting was a front to cover up how much the weirdness of situation had affected him. It had been a long time since Abel had cared about anything.

For the longest time, he'd searched for nothingness...

This entire situation with Sammie's ghost had changed everything. He wanted to tell Joane to stop, but curiosity got the better of him and he turned around. It really was her - the happiest girl he'd ever met.

Without waiting for his friends, Abel started bounding down the hill, practically tripping over his own feet as he ran.
 
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Initially tensing at the hug, Kenna forced herself to relax with an exhale through her nose. Fake it 'til you make it, she reminded herself. Luckily, the hug was brief; unluckily, Corey let out a cooing "That's more like it!" and wrapped his arms around both of them, pulling them in for a second hug, this one significantly longer. Kenna scowled into Joane's shoulder until the chipper boy released them. He's not in his right mind, she glanced at his reddish eyes, you can't get upset with him. Upon letting go of them, Corey looked pretty pleased - most likely because Joane agreed with him.

Kenna didn't know if she agreed with him in that it was Sammie's doing, but she had seen their friend. Sammie pushed her into her own swimming pool! Either that or I fell... but it was definitely Sammie that I saw. She'd have continued to chalk it up to fever dreams if the others hadn't mentioned seeing the ghost of their lost friend, too. Something was going on and, if she were being honest, Kenna was a little wary to find out. Nothing good came from tangling with ghosts - horror films had taught her that much - if they even existed.

"We..." It was time to pack those worries away and get everyone to safety, though; Joane had the right idea about calming down and finding a way out. "Maybe we should ask someone-"

Someone not being Abel, who so rudely interrupted her. Kenna narrowed her eyebrows. His attitude, more than anyone's at the moment, got on her nerves. Joane made calming down sound easy. Then again, a glance in her direction showed Kenna that it wasn't just herself who was getting irritated. She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying not to retort.

Ultimately, she failed: "Because we-" Kenna wanted to scream the next time he interrupted her. Instead, she froze.

Sammie.

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Watching his friends teeter at the brink of conflict was not in his top ten favorite things. It wasn't a favorite thing of his at all; couldn't they just get along? It's what Sammie obviously wanted. Didn't they want to make her happy? Ghosts - or angels, he thought - deserved happiness, too.

It seemed Sammie had had enough of their shit, too, because just as an argument began to rise, she appeared. He stepped out of the way just in time to avoid Abel running past him, running fast enough to nearly trip in the sand. As his eyes fell on Sammie herself, his feet started to move. "Sammie, hey! Sammie!"

He heard the sound of someone falling behind him.

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As soon as the boys started to move, Kenna did, too - but her body couldn't keep up with her mind. She tripped and fumbled into the sand, scowling at how it got everywhere. Her body felt like fire: tingly and unapologetic as anxiety crawled up her skin. A part of her feared that if she so much as breathed, Sammie would disappear.

The danger of ghosts, be damned; she needed answers.

Scrambling to her feet and kicking sand up in the process, she ignored how the tiny particles fell into her shoes and rubbed uncomfortably at her heels. She practically flew down the beach towards Sammie, though was nowhere near as fast as the others. Her body was weak - much weaker than it had ever been. By time she caught up to them, she was panting hard, chest heaving.

"S-Sammie," she breathed, "Sammie, what's going on?"

Sammie stayed silent until the four of them had gathered their bearings. "I didn't-..." she sighed. Offered them a sad smile. "I didn't have enough time to make you understand, but now I do."

Corey frowned, "Make us understand? What do you-..." His words died on a gaping mouth as Sammie took their hands in hers. Kenna watched as tears filled his eyes; felt them fill her own, too. Sammie was cold, but she felt real. The coldness seeped into her skin, crawled up her arm.

"Listen," she said. Kenna felt light-headed. "Please listen this time."​

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He wasn't sure what had happened - if he passed out and woke up - but in the next blink of an eye, Corey and the others were in Sammie's old room. He looked to Kenna, eyebrows raised, but she looked just as confused and shocked as he: Sammie's room looked the exact same. Completely untouched.

"Why are we-"

The door to her room opened and Sammie came in. Tossed her bookbag against the wall with excessive force. Corey felt himself rooted to the spot, staring. Sammie was moving, breathing, living and... crying? "Sammie..." He reached out to her, only for his hand to go right through her. Instead of offer comfort, they were forced to watch as Sammie sank against her bed and muffled a choking sob.
 
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Everyone was running, and Joane stared in stunned silence as the reality of the situation slapped her in the face. It hadn't been a mistake, Sammie was still there and the boys and Kenna were kicking up sand as they barreled down the hill to meet her. The fight that had happened moments ago was an afterthought - there was only the ghost who'd brought them here.

Slowly, as if in a trance, she descended the hill after her friends. "You're real." It felt as if she were swallowing broken glass. How could someone who'd died, who'd been buried in the earth in front of their very eyes be here? Then again, how were they even here? Talking bears, sentient fish, anthropomorphic parades... maybe it was time to stop questioning.

I didn't have time to make you understand.

Joane was silent as Sammie reached out to them, her own eyes were dry, but her insides had twisted into knots. NOTHING made sense. She wanted to reach for the entity and wrap her arms around her, but simultaneously, Joan wanted to squeeze her hands around the thing's throat until it disappeared because it was playing with them, wasn't it? To admit it was Sammie was to accept the madness and throw everything they knew up to this point out of the proverbial window.

"Corey, Kenna," her voice was hoarse. "I know it... God, it looks like her, but It can't be her."

It were as if no one had heard her.

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Abel couldn't help but gape. He'd stopped believing in miracles when Sammie killed herself, but here she was, in the flesh. It was hard to believe the entity was really their Sammie, but grief was a powerful thing so he played pretend and listened when she spoke. There were so many things he wanted to ask her. Why did you do it? Weren't we enough? He thought he'd come to hate her, but standing in front of Sammie below the hill, he realized he never had. If anything, he missed her so Goddamn much that it hurt. Was it possible to feel physical pain from emotional wounds? He didn't know anymore.

"Tell us," he whispered, and she did.

***

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The Other Place gave way to a much more familiar setting and Joane bit down on her lip when she realized just where they were: Sammie's room. Growing up, she'd spent a good chunk of her childhood in this very room, playing house and filling in coloring books alongside Kenna and Sammie. Even when Abel and Corey joined them, Sammie's house had always been HQ.

"How... you've got to be kidding me. This isn't possible."

But it was possible and they were standing alongside Sammie's assortment of stuffed animals. Everything was too familiar, from the colored pens she kept scattered on her desk to the glow-in-the-dark stars tacked on to the walls and ceiling.

Sammie was crying on her bed and everyone was just as stunned as she was. Corrie was the first to reach out to their friend, but before their very eyes, Joane watched as his hand slipped through her. Everything was real and yet it wasn't.

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"It's Dolphie," Abel sounded like a ghost as he nodded to the stuffed dolphin inside the plastic Sea World bag. "The day we went to Sea World together... a month before she did it." He remembered because he'd won her that Dolphin at a toss-the-ring stall. Corey had dared him to try his luck and by some miracle he'd won. Because he had no use for stuffed animals, he gave them to Sammie because girls liked that sort of thing and she'd been acting weird all day.

Alarm shone in Joane's eyes at the mention of Sea World. "She was really quiet that day, she didn't even ride the roller coaster with us." It had been clear as day that Sammie was upset about something, but she brushed them off and they allowed her to. Joane was transfixed, eyes feasting on every detail for some sort of clue.

"She said she'd be fine." Abel was starring at his feet, he didn't want to see the happiest girl he knew crying her heart out - he didn't want to see what had been happening in the background while they allowed themselves to believe that everything was okay. "We're such shitty friends." His tone was cold, the same tone he'd used when he'd mocked his friends earlier.

The scene continued to play out before them until Sammie fell asleep with her arms wrapped around Dolphie Dolphin.

"So what are we supposed to learn from this?" Abel spat. "Will it bring her back?"

There was no answer, the world merely began to melt and fall inward on itself until everything disappeared. Once the haze gave way, the teens would find themselves back home in their beds. It was 11:45 in the evening, the exact time when Sammie had swallowed an entire bottle of Tylenol and decided that she no longer wanted to live.
 
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Sea World. That had been such a fun day, yet it hadn't. Not really. Not when Sammie was off-kilter and refusing to talk about it. Corey had bit his tongue after the first few "I'm fine"s, not wanting to invade her privacy. They were best friends; If Sammie wanted to talk about it, she'd say something. Right?

Wrong.

Instead of talk to them about what was going on, she'd suffered through the day just to come home and suffer more, alone. Corey felt numb and it wasn't because of the weed. Abel was right - they were shitty friends. All he wanted to do was curl up next to her and give her the worlds biggest hug, accompanied with the longest and most genuine apology ever. "Sh-shit," Corey dragged a hand down his face instead, "we- we really messed up, she..."

"At least she had Dolphie." It was a half-assed attempt on his part to make things feel better, and it didn't really work, but there was some part of Abel in that room with her, trying to cheer her up.

Beside him, Kenna tensed. "What could a stuffed toy possibly do? She needed us and we weren't there for her."

"I don't-... I know, but, it's a nice thought-"

"Believing Sammie was fine was a nice thought," Kenna said sharply, "and look where that got her. We were ignorant and it costed Sammie her life, Corey. No stuffed toy was going to fix that."

Frowning, Corey held his own: "Why are you attacking me? I'm just trying to make it feel less shitty!"

"Well don't," Kenna scowled. He'd always liked Kenna's attitude - she could tackle an army of mean girls and boy bullies with just her icy stare alone - but he did not like it aimed at himself. Falling silent, Corey stared at the floor. Didn't even bother to look up, not even when Abel started getting upset, too.

Like a wilting flower, he kept his head down.

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If Sammie was trying to make them feel guilty, it was working. Kenna had known the girl since early childhood and prided herself on being her protector, but this? Overdosing on Tylenol wasn't something a Hello Kitty band-aid could fix. Watching Sammie go through these feelings alone weighed on her shoulders like a pile of bricks, as though Kenna herself had damned Sammie to sobbing alone and, eventually suicide.

It was their fault. They failed her. We should have pressed harder.

And then Corey had the audacity to mention the stuffed animal. Stupid, annoying, Dolphie the Dolphin who Kenna never had beef with until the resident sunflower boy made a remark that did more harm than good. Tensing, Kenna balled her hands into tight fists. Then she let him have it, ice queen stare and all. She felt awful afterwards, but she didn't feel compelled to apologize. So she kept her mouth shut.

Before everything melted away, Abel raised a question that Kenna would think on for the rest of the night: What was the point?

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Sammie's bedroom melted away, leaving him laying under his own covers. He sat up quickly, heart racing. "What- That couldn't-..." It couldn't be a dream. Miss Peggy lifted her head and looked at him before stepping up to bunt her head against his, purring. Corey gave her a half-hearted pat before scrambling to find his phone. He needed to talk to the others. There was no way that was a dream, not when he smoked so much to get rid of the nightmares.

Fumbling with his phone and Miss Peggy's need for attention, Corey froze. "11:45pm," he breathed. Beside him, Miss Peggy meowed indignantly. It was the time, according to doctors, Sammie had down the bottle of Tylenol. Unable to move, Corey stared at the time until it turned to 11:46pm. Then, with shaky fingers, created a message thread with Kenna, Joane, Abel, and himself.

11:46PM
COREY

> guys
> i just had the craziest dream
> except it wasnt a dream. it felt so real
> please tell me im not the only one who saw sammie tonight
11:48PM
COREY
> please
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Within the blink of an eye, Kenna was staring not at Sammie, but the ceiling of her own room. She took a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Counted to ten, then twenty, then thirty and forty and so on until she calmed down enough to move. That had been the most intense, real feeling dream she'd ever experienced. If she closed her eyes, Kenna could still feel Joane and Corey's arms around her; hear Abel's infuriating snark; see Sammie bawling on her bed, holding onto a stuffed dolphin like it was a lifeline.

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes with a groan. Across the room, her phone vibrated loud enough to startle her. "C-Crap," Kenna stumbled out of bed groggily, but quickly, and snatched her phone from her dresser. Turned it on silent because whoever was texting her was not shutting up any time soon, and listened carefully for any sign of her grandmother being awake.

When her house remained quiet, Kenna relaxed.

Squinting against the brightness, she traveled to a new message thread and paused. Please tell me I'm not the only one who saw Sammie tonight, she repeated in her head, each time quickening her heart beat a little bit more. Please. Kenna sat down on her mattress, body feeling heavy.

"It wasn't a dream?" No, it had to be; she'd fallen in the pool, and if it weren't a dream, she'd be sopping wet right now. Chalking it up to coincidence - a stretch of explanation, if she ever heard one - Kenna turned off her display and returned top bed. Stared at her old Hello Kitty nightlight until she fell back asleep.
 
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The last thing Joane heard was the fading sound of Corey and Kenna's argument, however the words melted away alongside Dolphie the Dolphin and everything else that remained of Sammie. Everything vanished. When she opened her eyes, she was back in her dorm room, enveloped by an almost suffocating darkness. Joane tossed the covers off her bed in a panic as her eyes sought out the owl-shaped nightlight she kept by her door. It was there, emanating a soft blue glow like it always did - which meant she was back, really, really back. The confusion was paralyzing.

Had it all been a dream? It had been a long time since she'd dreamed about Sammie or any of her old friends, but it felt far too real and far to vivid to be just some alcohol-induced dream.

Bzzzzt, bztttttttt.

Joane reached for the phone on her nightstand, practically choked on her own spit when the bright 11:45 on her lock screen greeted her - she sputtered and choked some more when she saw the group chat and Corey's text about Sammie.

What the absolute hell?

If it had happened once, she would have chalked it up to coincidence - more than once was a pattern. But still, entertaining the idea of the Other Place and Sammie's ghost attempting to contact them was crazy. It was exactly what a grieving unstable person would do... something she could picture Corey buying into. She was a logical, pragmatic person. This was bullshit.

Joane closed her eyes. It would be better to just go to sleep, but she ended up tossing and turning as her conscience told her to answer Corey. It was the least she could do after being an ass and ignoring him for God knows how long.

11: 55PM
JOANE

> It was probably a nightmare. It's late, get some sleep.

She didn't bother checking her phone again.



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This wasn't happening.

Sammie was dead. The Other Place didn't exist. Animals couldn't talk. Sammie was dead. Those were the thoughts that ran rampant through Abel's head when he found himself sprawled out on the floor of his bedroom. It was just as he'd left it - books scattered haphazardly around the floor, bed unmade, and clothes piled up in the leftmost corner.

Had he fallen asleep? The last thing he remembered was the rooftop... then the park. He'd seen Sammie. Abel shook his head desperately to rid himself of the thought. Must have been stress, he had considered jumping from the 18th floor. The thought that had come so naturally merely hours ago, but now in the safety of his room, left him reeling.

This would be on heck of a story to tell his psychiatrist...

Abel pushed himself off the floor so he was sitting with his back against his bed. He sat there for a good ten minutes, the confusion inside him slowly turning to anger not just for Sammie but for his old friends and himself. It was around that time when he noticed his phone lying in front of him. He picked it up and noticed the texts first from Corey then Joane. It was the perfect outlet and he allowed his anger for them to seethe as he flipped through the conversation regarding their deceased friend. This was immensely stupid. Almost two years and they were still chasing after what? Some fucking ghost.

11: 59PM
ABEL

> Rly? This is fucking stupid. You wanna be a ghost buster now?
> Whatever you're smoking, keep it to yourself.
> Stop texting me Corey.

ABEL has left the chat

It was easy to push his friends away, he'd done it for so long and had been the first to leave, that it was almost too easy. Joane and Kenna stopped bothering him, but Corey never did. Instead, he showed up at Abel's workplace with his stupid pleas and puppy dog pouts and he was so much like a begging baby animal that it annoyed Abel beyond measure. Being an ass to Corey was almost cathartic because it allowed him to take his rage out on someone who wouldn't fight back. So he did it.

Abel tossed his phone across the room and allowed himself to lie on his side on the floor. It was going to be a long night.
 
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Ten minutes. It took someone ten minutes for a text message to come in, and when he heard the familiar ping of his notification alert, his entire body relaxed.

And then he read the messages.

Joane didn't believe him; it was just a nightmare, she said. Blood rushed to his face and buzzed in his ears, either due to embarrassment or a lack of emotional control - Corey wasn't sure what he was feeling - or both. Only when Abel sent a slew of texts four minutes later did he know for certain.

Rage.

In one quick motion, Corey heaved his phone across the room. Disregarded the pieces of broken screen glass and, instead, pulled a pillow tightly into his arms. Buried his tears against the fabric while trying to do the same with whatever had snapped inside of him.

He'd call his hook-up in the morning.


The Next Day​

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Sunlight streamed through the thin canopy sheets over her bed. With a groan, Kenna rolled away from the light. Five more minutes, she pleaded, but already she was waking up. Had her grandmother allowed blackout curtains, Kenna would be content to sleep all day. But, then again, it was good she hadn't; not only were they gaudy in her room of pastel colors, sleeping through her alarm would not be productive.

And Kenna needed to be productive. If not for her sanity, then for her future. There were tests and exams and competitions to prepare for. She couldn't let a nightmare consume her. So, instead of block out the world with her blanket, she rolled out of bed and let her eyes adjust before swiping through her phone.

Several text messages from the group chat. Kenna's heart raced; did they all have the same dream? She couldn't remember the last time all of them had actually responded to one of Corey's group chats. A confusing mix of dread and hope and curiosity prompted her to tap in.

She wished she hadn't.

Kenna understood as well as the others did that Corey was fragile - he'd always been that way - and so she did not blame Joane for passing his claim off as a nightmare, which was probably all that it was. Abel, on the other hand? Something angry burned in her chest, making her clutch the sides of her phone with an unnecessary intensity.

Abel knew better.

Disappointed enough to text him a piece of her mind, Kenna only stopped when her grandmother knocked on the door. She pursed her lips and stared down at Abel's empty contact icon. She'd never deleted their numbers but, for the sake of her own recovery, stored away all photos she could find. She still remembered their original contacts, though; each a fifth of a picture of their group back when it was whole. Sammie had wanted a beach day sometime during their freshman summer. Even now, when she closed her eyes, she could smell the salt air and fire pit kebabs. Hear the sound of Joane screaming as Corey somehow roped Abel into helping him drench her with the melted ice from their mini cooler.

"Kenna, it's time to go," came her grandmother's voice. Kenna ignored her, already halfway through a paragraph-sized venomous lecture, not wanting to be disturbed. Another knock, this one accompanied by the twisting of her doorknob. "Early is on time, on time is late, and-..."

Quckly, Kenna pocketed her unfinished text message and schooled her face into the picture of perfect control. It was hard. "And late is unacceptable," she recited. "I'm ready. Sorry to keep you waiting."

Her grandmother in all her tall, big-boned, and terrifying glory offered her a short smile. Kissed her forehead. "Don't apologize when you can fix the problem. Let's go; Pastor Nathaniel is giving sermon this morning."

The text, later, would never be sent.


Two Days Later - Tuesday Evening​


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Corey sat on the sand bank, waiting patiently for the sun to go down and the beach's curfew to rise. He knew if he got caught out there he'd be in trouble; not only would he be trespassing, but the stench wafting off of him would alert any police officer to his recent activities. Yet, he found he did not care.

The only person who'd cared about him at all for the past year had been himself. He could be free if he just crossed that threshold. Everything would crumble but, in a sense, hadn't it already? Sitting there, broken phone in hand, he rubbed his thumb over the cracks in the screen.

"Ahhh, you assholes," he breathed, falling back into the sand. It tousled his hair, the little flecks finding their way through light blonde hair. Corey would need at least two showers to rid himself of the sand later. When was the last time he even did that? What happened to his sense of hygiene? His well-being?

He missed his friends so much it hurt, but he could handle being ghosted. Everyone grieved in their own way. What he couldn't handle? Being told to go away.

"Maybe I will."


One Day Later - Wednesday​


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"The truth is able to distinguish between selfish pleasure and joy in the Lord. Few could argue that we live in a society that worships pleasure. Of course, God is the One who introduced us to the concept of 'Rest' and joy and pleasure. Yet, we must not be afraid to ask whether we live for the cottage, or for our retirement, or for the weekend; in other words, do we live simply for ourselves? Or do we derive a real joy in communal worship? In helping a neighbor across the street or in a country ravaged by a storm? Let the truth set you free!"

Let the truth set you free, Kenna sat in stunned silence, staring up at the pastor from her seat in the pews, even as her grandmother and their neighbors began to rise. After dwelling for three days on what transpired in the group chat, Kenna suddenly knew what she had to do.

Why had she hesitated? Had she come so far from the woman she used to be, as to leave a childhood friend in the dark? When Kenna took on the role of Mom Friend, she made a commitment: She would be their protector. She wasn't much of a protector, either, if she let one wither away under the weight of his own muddled mind.

Corey, probably more so than them all, was volatile. Sobbing his eyes out one second and the next, punching a hole through the wall so hard he fractures his middle knuckle. She remembered that day very clearly; the day his father found out he joined their high school dance team. Corey was the only boy. He was made to feel ashamed.

At least, until Kenna joined. Her presence on the team did not last long - she was a horrible dancer despite being an athlete - but it gave him enough courage to continue what he loved.

Pulling out her phone during the closing hymn, she sent Corey a text:

KENNA
8:13PM
>I saw Sammie, too. Let's meet tomorrow at noon.​

COREY
8:15PM​
>Omg really?​

8:17PM​
>Kenna?​

8:20PM​
>Oh wait it's Wednesday. Church. Sorry!!!!
>Coffee shop?​
KENNA
8:16PM
>Coffee shop
After much contemplation, she sent Joane the same message but with a location added. As much as she wanted to help Corey, he was tiring to deal with all on her own. Plus, she didn't like tears, and Corey was a notorious crybaby.

Upon leaving church, she prayed Joane would respond.

If not, was was one afternoon?

I can do this.
 
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Monday Afternoon


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It was one in the afternoon and she had papers to write and powerpoint presentations to make, but for the life of her, Joane couldn't find it in herself to roll out of bed. Yesterday had been - to put it mildly - bizarre, and Corey's message regarding Sammie stuck with her like a bad pop song. Why did it feel as if they were constantly trying to outrun their best friend's ghost? Joane sighed and reached out from under the covers to grab her phone from the nightstand beside her.

Abel had texted Corey back.

Four new messages, a brand new record. Abel had dropped off their radars more than a year ago, and the fact that he was answering now meant that something BIG had happened. It was a small miracle in itself. Joane sat up and unlocked her phone, eyes flitting over Abel's words. His cruelty didn't surprise her, but she felt bad for Corey all the same.

In a way, she was no better than Abel. Joane had left Corey and Kenna behind too, but she'd learned to live with the guilt, learned to bury it beneath extracurricular activities and bad habits. You're a terrible friend, Joane. She knew that was true too, it was much easier to act despicable when one accepted they were despicable. So instead of texting back to see if Corey was okay, she placed her phone onto the nightstand and pretended they didn't exist. She was good at that, wasn't she?



Tuesday Afternoon


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The soft jingling of bells announced his arrival. Abel shuffled through the doors of the Espresso Express with his signature scowl. He was wearing the standard green apron and his name tag, but his shirt was on backwards and the telltale dark circles underneath his eyes hinted at several sleepiness nights. The smell of coffee and fresh bread made him groan.

"Abe my man, you are 15 minutes late again." The exasperated voice game from a willowy bonde named Gavin - he was an okay guy, friendly to the point of irritation and so understanding that he could put a kindergarten teacher or two to shame. Abel didn't enjoy his cheery chatter or his optimism, but Gavin was a family friend and was one of the reasons Abel had even managed to secure a job at the coffee shop in the first place. "You can't keep doing this, y'know? Like, I'd gladly cover for you my dude, mom told me you've been having a rough time and all that." The blithe smile the blonde wore turned into a more concerned look. "But the boss, he ain't too happy anymore and he's been giving me hell for it."

Abel dragged his feet as he found his place behind the counter, aside from the lone customer in a corner table, Espresso Express was empty. It would get more crowded once they hit three in the afternoon. "He should just fire me then."

"Yikes, he's really close to doing that, trust me."

Because Abel needed his mom to stay off his back, and because extra income was always a good thing, he stopped himself from saying anything negative. "Thank you Gavin." The words were forced, just a line in a pre-written script.

"Next time, okay?"

"Okay."

The truth was, Abel didn't give a damn about his job or himself or anything really. He'd spent the last two days thinking about Sammie and Sea World and how fucking annoying Corey was. He'd finally managed to numb the pain of her death when Corey had reopened the wound - he hated Corey for that, he really did. Fuck Corey.

Why couldn't he just take off his rose-tinted glasses and accept that things had changed and that they weren't friends anymore? He scowled as he sat down behind the register and waited for the rush hour.

As the day wore on and as customers came and went, Abel thought more and more about jumping.



Wednesday Night - Thursday Morning


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Strict Machine

She was spending more and more time in places where she didn't want to be. Joane stood in her own corner watching as people drank and danced the night away. The strobe lights hurt her eyes, but being surrounded by strangers was better than being alone with her thoughts - it was better than thinking of Sammie and Corey's texts, and of how terrible a friend she was.

"Joane, I see we meet again?"

Joane looked up from her cup but couldn't match a name to his face. "Richard."

"It's Richmond." He cracked a smile and squinted his eyes when he was blinded by the strobe lights. "Also, it's a frigging Wednesday night. What are you doing here?"

"Hah, what are you doing here?" She tossed the question back into his court because she couldn't quite say 'I might have been seeing visions of my dead best friend and I'm really stressed and sad all the time so I'm here to drink.'

"Same reason as everyone else," he laughed. "Needa unwind, classes are stressful, man."

"Very," she answered. It wasn't a lie, she wasn't doing well in her classes. Joane had gone from scoring A's to eventually scraping by with C's and D's. It didn't help that she found herself skipping lectures left and right like they were the plague. Her parents didn't know any of that yet, the longer they stayed unaware, the better.

"Well, to college." Richmond raised his cup into the air.

"To college," she said as she clinked the rim of her own cup against his.

Joane didn't notice Kenna's texts until her alarm clock began screeching at 7:00 in the Goddamn morning. She had an 8:00am Social Science class and her head was still in pieces. She pulled her phone off her nightstand and the texts slapped some sense into her. A time and location, Thursday at noon at the Espresso Express. That was where Abel worked. She didn't think he'd be happy to see them, but ever since Corey's initial text, she'd been struggling to get her dead friend out of her head.

Honestly, she just wanted to go forward without ever looking back.

To answer or not to answer, that was the question. Eventually, curiosity won and she texted Kenna back.

Joane
7:15AM

> Okay. I'll see you there.

She felt like it was a mistake, but everything felt like one big mistake these days.



Thursday Noon


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"One large Caramel Frappuccino, that will be 4$, sir."

The nicely-dressed man before the counter fiddled with his tie and sleeves before finally pulling out a wallet. He deposited the money onto the counter and smiled. He was a sweaty wreck despite how hard he tried. "Job interview today."

If he was looking for comfort or reassurance, Abel was not the right person. "I see." It was all he said in response as he stashed the money inside the cash register. Abel then scribbled down a note for the person in the kitchen and passed it through the tiny window. "Please give us five or so minutes," he said before sending the man on his way.

It was the same monotonous thing over and over again until a few familiar faces finally walked through the door...
 
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