And All That Was Left...

The year that I died started out like any other.

I guess I need to start from the (almost) beginning so here goes.

January 18th, 2009; all day

I moved in with my older sister Kilah after our mom Aileen died from cancer. Kilah, short and skinny, had moved out the previous year because she could not seem to get over the fact that her girlfriend Cassie had died in a boating accident. Kilah is the one that got me into the party scene. She took me to my first party when I was fourteen. I began drinking heavily and doing all kinds of drugs: LSD, Molly, weed, anything that I could get into my bloodstream. At first I did drugs was to be cool and fit in with my sister’s friends but eventually came the fact that I was addicted to the drugs and the high that I got.

March 4th, 2012; 11 AM

When I first met Zane Tucker, I was under the influence of drugs. Kilah drug me to a function in which she had to take notes in order to get promoted in her job and as much as she loved me, she forced me to go along with her so that I would not smoke everything that she had in the house. She and I sat outside in her car smoking pot to numb ourselves to the boring day that was ahead of us.

I mostly sat in a boardroom that no one was in and drew what I saw. That was when two boys walked in. The first boy that I saw was tall and impeccably dressed as if he were about to go to church and his hair, brown and dark, was ruffled like he had just gotten out of bed, the last detail that I noticed were his piercing blue eyes that seemed to meet my deep brown ones.

I got up, assuming that the two boys wanted the room for a meeting. I looked down as I began to walk past them. “Sorry,” I murmured as I walked out with my sketchbook in hand.

The boy that I saw first spoke up, his voice was much deeper than I expected. “We didn’t mean to kick you out of your room; we were looking somewhere to do our work. These meeting rooms are really boring.”

“Oh, uh, I mean, I can stay if you’d like for me to,” I stuttered, barely looking up from the ground. I knew that if I looked up at that moment, they would see the red in my eyes that was not from the pot.

“That’d be great,” said the boy with the higher voice. “We love company.”

I smirked slightly and walked back into the room. “Thanks for not kicking me out.”

The boy with the deeper voice introduced himself, “I’m Zane and this doofus behind me is Dade. He’s blind so don’t think he can’t hear you.”

I shook Zane’s hand and felt around for Dade’s, careful not to touch where his hand wasn’t. “It’s nice to meet you both.” I said, speaking at my normal tone of voice.

Dade felt the wall beside him and eventually sat in the exact same seat that I had been residing in for the past four hours.

I sat down in the seat beside Dade and Zane sat across from me. I smiled at Zane and began talking to Dade.

“So, how did you both get here?” I inquired, drawing Dade as I saw him and hopefully, not how he looked. He looked blurry to me, extremely so. I shook my head and stole glances at Zane as I drew his friend.

January 29th, 2013; 8:19 PM

I turned the note over and over in my hands, Why won’t you change? I screamed to it. The diagnosis could not be right. But it was. I had three months left to live. Three months.

I looked up at the program from Dade’s funeral two months earlier sitting on my dresser. I had taken the photo of him; God, he was so happy. I had found a way to snap a picture of him where his eyes did not look as dead as they actually were.

May 1st, 2012; 4:32 PM

“Dade! Look at me!” I yelled, as I fixed the focus of my brand new Nikon D500 camera.

“Even if I were looking at you, Quinn, you wouldn’t know,” he said with a smile.

“What Quinn means is that you should turn your head toward the sound of her voice,” Dade did as Zane instructed.

I had been trying to get Dade’s senior photo for the past hour and a half. He and Zane had been out of their junior year for a week and they had wanted to get their senior photos as quickly as they could.

Zane hopped onto the rock beside Dade and wrapped his arm over his buddy’s shoulder. They both began laughing and acting goofy as I took as many photos as I could of them. When Zane got off the rock, Dade was in mid laugh, his eyes closed, nose scrunched up, and head tilted back. His blond curls were blowing in the wind and his walking stick was beside him. He finally looked content.

April 20th, 2012; 2AM

I woke up with the most awful headache; I had been off most of my drugs for a week. Zane had convinced me to quit before I went to apply for jobs. The boys wanted me to do something while they were working for the summer and most jobs do drug tests.

I walked to the kitchen that I shared with Kilah and fixed myself a glass of water. I chugged it in three seconds, realizing that it wouldn’t satisfy my want for a fix. I snuck into the garage and did what I told Zane I would do when I wanted to smoke. I walked to his house.

He lived across town and when I finally arrived to his place, I was wanting more than a bowl of the good greens. I banged on the door of his apartment and began crying.

When he opened the door ten minutes later, he was half naked with only his boxers on and his hair was sticking straight up. He had obviously just gotten out of bed.

“What’s the matter with you people? Can’t I get...oh. Quinn come in.” he said as he grabbed my arm and pulled me inside.

“I miss it, Zane. I want some pot. I want some Molly. I’d settle for a cigarette right now.” I said as I fell onto my back in the middle of his living room. He looked at me as if I were crazy.

“Quinn, you can’t have drugs. You and I both know that.” he sat down beside me and rubbed his hand up and down my back.

“But Zane, the drugs were so...they were nice. I want them.” I said as I looked up at him.

His face was showing that he almost wanted to let me do drugs and get it over with so I’d stop being annoying but instead he said, “Quinn, you cannot do drugs. You’re too good for that.”

I sighed, knowing when a battle was lost. “Thanks, Zane.” I knew that I did not need the drugs but I wanted them. So bad it hurt.

November 27th, 2012; 2 PM

I looked up at Zane and grabbed his hand as we walked into the funeral home. I was not ready to see Dade’s body. He could not really be dead. He was only eighteen and he, Zane, and I were going to travel the world. He couldn’t be dead. I couldn’t catch my breath and Zane wound up having to carry me, my long black dress flowing in the wind.

February 16th, 2013; 3 AM

I decided to end my life this day because if Zane found out that I had fallen back into my old habits, he would never forgive me. I missed Dade. He was my light in the darkness of life. It was Dade that had saved me.

I pressed the razor to my wrist and watched the line of blood reach my skin and hit air. I loved that feeling; I felt light, wonderful, lovely.

“Quinn, come back to me, baby.” It was Kilah’s voice, she sounded as if she were crying.

I crashed back to earth as the paramedics hit me with held a cloth to my wrist to keep my bleeding controlled.

“I’m so glad you’re back!” Kilah screamed, tears rushing down her face.

I wasn’t glad I came back.