Would I be a different person? Would I be playing professional hockey? Who would I have become had I never met him?
My dad pulls to the curb and turns off the car. I see Riggs’ car parked in front of his, and that was when I first noticed something was wrong. She always texts me and lets me know she is home. I hadn’t gotten any texts or calls from her.
“Dad, you don’t have to walk me up. This is a good neighborhood,” I joke as I slip out of the car. He gets out, as does Nico. My dad hugs me to his chest.
“I know, kid. I want to see my other child. She missed Sunday dinner last week, and I want an explanation. I even made her favorite food!” he complains.
“Fine, fine.” I roll my eyes waving him and Nico up towards the apartment.
The walk is quick, only one flight of stairs before we arrive at our door. I push my key inside the doorknob, and when I go to turn it, I realize it’s not locked. My eyebrows come together in confusion. Huh, that’s odd.
I open the door, and the air feels strange. It’s sticky, sharp, not like it normally is. When I walk into our apartment normally it was warm, it felt like home. It always smells like those vanilla candles she burns, but it doesn’t right now. It smells musty.
My dad and Nico don’t realize anything is off as they move through my door. I rest my hand on my stomach an uncomfortable feeling propelling through my body. I bite the inside of my cheek, looking around the apartment for signs she is here.
Her briefcase is on the couch, and her phone is on the table. The kitchen is empty, and I don’t hear the shower running. The more empty rooms I find, the worse I feel.
“Riggs! Get your ass in here and give your second dad a hug!” he calls out as they make themselves at home on the couch.
“I’m going to check her bedroom,” I say calmly as I move through our home. When I reach her bedroom and open the door, I see emptiness. Her bed is made perfectly, untouched by anyone. I’m three seconds from calling 911 and telling them we had a kidnapping. This wasn’t Riggs. She always let me know where she was going, and she never left her phone.
I immediately move to her bathroom, turning the knob, and see that it’s locked. A wave of relief should wash over me, but instead, it was more dread. What was going on? Why was the door locked?
“Riggs, are you in there? Open up! You scaring the shit out of me. I thought I was going to have to send a search party!” I try to laugh, but it’s like my body won’t let me. It knows something is wrong.
I hear nothing but deafening silence on the other end of the door. I try to clear my throat, but I realize anxiety has clogged it.
“Riggs, open the door! Are you okay?” I call out a little louder. My fist hits the wooden door. When I hear nothing again, I bang on the door again and again. Each hit is harder and harder. I’d been hitting the door so powerfully that my dad and Nico appear at the frame of Riggs’ bedroom door.
“What’s wrong?” my dad says troubled. I don’t know how I even get the words out, how I tell him that the door is locked, and I can’t find Riggs. Everything is happening so hastily. My dad hits the door, calling her name, and when he hears nothing he pushes on the door with his shoulder. The door squeaks, but it doesn’t give.
I watch as Nico moves him out of the way, and slams his shoulder into the door, breaking it. He does it again, and it splinters a hole that allows us to move into the bathroom.
“Oh my God…” I wasn’t sure who said it, maybe it was me. At this point, everything felt like a nightmare. A bad dream I wanted to wake up from right now.
My beautiful best friend. My strong Aurelia was sitting with her back leaning on the side of the tub, her feet out in front of her. The mirror was fragmented, and a bloody piece was lying by her side. She had mangled her wrist in an attempt to kill herself.
My friend had reached a point so low she felt the only way out was to end her life.
Dense, wide, matching, jagged horizontal cuts adorn her fragile wrists. The bathroom floor is covered in a deep puddle of blood. I thought the blood would be cold, but it’s warm and thicker than it looks. Her head is hardly being held up, her eyes meet mine, and it’s as if her spirit is leaving her body. Her normally tan skin tone is an unsightly gray, almost blue.
“Valor…” she weeps.
I propel towards her before anyone can stop me, the sounds of the blood being squished under my feet pervade the room. I straddle her waist, my body sinking into the liquid that surrounds us both. It feels like being absorbed by quicksand. I grab her wrists with my hands, shaking as I do so. I can’t even see straight because of the tears that are descending from my eyes.
“I need a shirt. I need something to cover it!” I shriek. I think Nico hands me his, and I wrap them together, holding pressure to them so tightly it must be painful. I can feel her heartbeat through the wounds, each steady pump.
I hear my dad and Nico scrambling around, the dialing of a phone and faded voices, but the only thing that seems clear is Aurelia. The odor of blood riddles my soul, I’ll never forget it. Not ever. There is so much fucking blood. It’s all over my dress, my hands, the floor. How the hell is there this much blood? I can’t even tell if my face is wet from tears or the red liquid drowning us.
“Riggs, look at me, Riggs? Please look at me,” I say softly, I lean my head on her forehead, shaking as I cry. How could I be so selfish? So fucking blind that I didn’t see her struggling? Had there been signs? Had she tried to tell me? Was I so fucking consumed with my own shit I didn’t notice the closest person in the world to me was hurting?
She was so golden all the time, and now she’s so cold. Like ice. She looks at me with watery eyes, so cracked that all I see is darkness inside of them. So much misery, an abyss of ache and self-loathing. I cough out a cry that rips through my body. Her eyes flickered from open to closed. She is gradually losing a battle she doesn’t want to win.
“Riggs, talk to me, please okay? Just talk to me.” I try to keep her awake until help gets here. Why are they not fucking here yet? Her breathing is so shallow I wouldn’t even consider it breathing.
"I-I just wa-want to feel something, Sully," she whispers. More tears leak from her eyes. I press my forehead into hers trying to force my love, my life into her body. “I can’t ev-ever fe-eel anythi…”
Blood is all over both of us, encasing us at this moment. Her heartbeat is getting slower and slower with each passing second. Snot and saltwater mix together on my face, and I can’t wipe them away. I don’t want to wipe them. I just continue to squeeze her wrists. My hands are cramping, but I don’t dare let go. I can’t let go. I don’t want to let her out of my sight. I have to save her.
"I can't fe-eel my fingers, S-sully. I-I can't feel-I can't feel anything!” She tries to scream but it just comes out cracked, and you can barely understand it. Her body is so tranquil under my trembling one. “Wh-hy can't I feel anything…" she calls to me. She’s begging me to give her an answer, an answer to a question I can’t understand.
Aurelia had always felt things so boldly, so fiercely. Her emotions were always so obvious, it didn’t matter which one it was. When she was happy, she was flying. When she was angry, it was ballistic. When she was sad, she slept. How did I not see this? Why? I never noticed that maybe she was compensating, that maybe I overlooked signs, a warning that she was going to do this.