Please Remain Calm (This Is Not a Test, #1.5)

by Courtney Summers

I could’ve been drowning the way I choke awake. Suffocating on the silence. I hack it out of my lungs, clear my throat. I know I didn’t sleep myself into a different night, so this must be the same one. Got settled into it long enough for every muscle in my body to start working against me, though. My legs, my arms, my back, all screaming. I push my head into my pillow and try to block it out enough to get back to sleep but then I feel the space beside me. Times like these, you go so far out of your way to assure yourself you’re not alone. You memorize the person you’re with: the way they breathe, the way they move, the warmth of their body. All these things, you reach for every second of the day and when they’re gone, you don’t even have to open your eyes to know it. She’s gone.