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The sound and the vibration of the alarm woke me.
The shrill sound piercing through the lingering quiet of the apartment, dragging me fully awake. My body felt like it was filled with sandbags, every muscle resisting movement. I groaned and flopped an arm over my face, hoping the sound could somehow vanish.
Shadows of last night lingered in my chest, curling around my ribs like chains.
I turned toward the other side of the bed, expecting to see her — curled up, messy hair everywhere, soft breaths rising and falling in rhythm.
Instead, the only thing staring back at me was the green digital glow of the clock.
8:00 a.m.
No Sandy.
My breath caught.
The fog of sleep evaporated instantly.
Panic flooded me, sudden and icy. Sandy never woke up this early after a heavy drinking night. Never.
My stomach twisted. My heart slammed against my ribs.
I shoved off the blanket, legs unsteady, mind racing through every possibility. Maybe she went to the living room. Maybe she couldn't sleep. Maybe — anything.
Anything except what my brain was already screaming.
I shoved off the blanket and stood, forcing movement into legs that suddenly felt unstable.
Thoughts raced faster than my heartbeat, overlapping until they blurred.
What am I going to say to her? How do I even explain myself?
Why did I break down like that? Why did I let myself be that vulnerable?
I walked into the living room.
Empty.
The cushions were still dented from where we sat last night, but she wasn't there.
Not in the kitchen either.
I checked my room.
Nothing.
She was gone.
A hollow ache opened in my chest.
I stood completely still, trying not to panic — trying to accept that she left.
This was not like her.
She wouldn't leave without saying something.
She always says something. Even when she is mad.
I sank onto the couch, hands braced against the cushions, trying not to breathe too loudly. Trying not to let the panic take over.
My pulse hammered against my ribs.
It has to be more than my emotional breakdown. She wouldn't disappear because I broke her phone. Because I shoved her. Right? The Sandy I know… the Sandy I trusted… wouldn't get this mad over something like that.
I pressed the heel of my palm against my sternum.
Maybe I don't know her as well as I thought.
The alarm on my phone rang again, cruelly reminding me of reality.
Today was my first day of school.
Orientation.
The day Sandy said she'd make special.
I inhaled shakily and pushed myself up from the couch.
I can't fall apart.
Not now.
I walked to my room and started picking out clothes.
I tossed options onto one side of the bed until it became a messy pile of fabric and frustration.
A white shirt.
Grey cargo pants.
Simple. Safe. Familiar.
She would have made this fun.
She would've stood in the doorway, teasing me for being indecisive.
She would've picked outfits I didn't have the courage to try.
My throat burned.
I made her leave.
After gathering the scattered clothes from the floor, I headed into the bathroom.
I undressed and turned on the shower.
The water hit me like a sheet of ice.
"Oh—" I hissed as the cold hammered my skin.
Goosebumps exploded across my arms.
For a second, I considered stepping back out.
But the cold snapped something into focus — sharpening the chaos in my head to a single, steady line of sensation.
Good.
Let the numbness take over.
Eventually, the shock faded and my muscles relaxed.
I washed, the mint scent filling my lungs — sharp and clean.
It burned my nose.
That's why I loved it.
I stepped out and wrapped a towel around my waist.
I brushed my teeth slowly, staring at myself in the mirror.
My reflection stared back — eyes tired and slightly red.
Why do I always ruin things that are good for me?
Back in my room, I dried off and applied lotion — strawberry scented.
I paused mid-motion.
The smell was so identical to her, it was like she appeared behind me for a second.
Why does everything I touch still remind me of her?
When I checked my phone again, it was 9:20 a.m.
Orientation started at 10.
I can't be late.
I refuse to look like someone who doesn't belong.
I put on the white shirt, grey cargo pants, and white sneakers.
I clasped a silver chain around my neck.
My fingers shook slightly — maybe from rushing, maybe from everything else.
I grabbed a notebook and pen from the spare room and tossed them into my sling bag.
On my way out, I caught a glimpse of myself in the closet mirror.
I paused.
I actually looked… confident.
Like someone capable of handling life.
If only I believed it.
I tied my hair into a bun, revealing the shaved side of my head.
The look gave me a small spark of satisfaction — control, even if it was shallow.
My phone read 9:25.
No breakfast.
If I stop moving, I'll start thinking.
If I start thinking, I'll break.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped into the hallway.
"Morning, neighbor!" Brandon's voice was bright and full of sunshine.
Too much sunshine.
"Morning," I muttered.
The hallway was surprisingly clean.
No evidence of last night's chaos, though a faint smell of alcohol lingered.
He fell into step beside me.
"Heading to school?"
"Yeah." I glanced at him.
He looked good — oversized white hoodie, black baggy jeans.
Casual but stylish.
Meanwhile, Chase trailed behind him like a zombie in pajamas — eyes red, hair chaotic.
"Do you have a ride?" Brandon asked.
"I'm calling a cab," I said, pulling out my phone.
"You can ride with us," he offered.
"Chase is driving."
I looked at Chase, who barely looked alive.
Am I putting my life in the hands of someone who might fall asleep mid-drive?
"…Sure."
"Morning…" Chase mumbled.
The word dragged like he had to physically pull it from his lungs.
"Morning," I said, trying not to laugh.
Brandon laughed openly.
Chase looked at him his face blank.
The drive was full of Brandon talking about everything — the cafeteria menu, what he major in, how he chose today's hoodie.
Chase occasionally grunted from the driver's seat.
I stared out the window.
I should be excited. This should feel like a beginning. So why does it feel like I already messed up something that mattered more?
Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to campus.
Students flooded the entrance, buzzing with nervous energy.
"Thanks for the ride," I muttered.
Brandon leaned in and gave Chase a quick kiss before stepping out.
He waved as Chase drove off.
"You know where we're going?" Brandon asked.
"I think so," I said, leading him left.
We were ten minutes early.
Then— I froze.
I saw her.
Waving her arm like a flag.
Already yelling.
No.
Not her.
Not today.
I cannot deal with whatever chaos she brings.
I grabbed Brandon's wrist and turned sharply in the opposite direction.
"What? Where are we—?"
"Grumpy!"
Her voice sliced through the noise.
Of course she'd already given me a nickname.
Of course she'd show up here.
Timing has never been my friend.
I shut my eyes briefly.
I barely have the emotional bandwidth to breathe today, and the universe throws this at me?
"Wait up!" she shouted, louder.
My stomach flipped. My hands tightened around Brandon's wrist. I wasn't ready for this. Not today. And yet… I had no choice.
I exhaled slowly.
I can handle school.
I can handle new people.
But her?
Today?
I don't know if I can handle that.