Page 2 of A Thousand Broken Pieces

“I … love you … Savannah. So … much,” Poppy said, fighting her slowing breath to speak. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying in vain to hold on. Poppy pressed a kiss to my hair.

“Savannah.” Mama’s voice sailed into my ears. “Baby …” she murmured. I lifted my head and met Poppy’s weak smile.

“I love you, Pops,” I said. “You’ve been the best big sister I could ever ask for.” Poppy swallowed and her eyes shimmered with tears. I studied her face. She was so close to leaving us. I memorized the green of her eyes, the natural streaks of warmth in her dark hair. She was pale now, but I held on to the memory of the peach tone of her soft skin. I held on to the memory of her sweet scent wrapping around me, to her face full of laughter and life.

I didn’t want to let go of her hand, I didn’t know if I ever would be able to, but as Mama squeezed my shoulders, I did, refusing to disconnect from her gaze until Mama and Daddy moved beside the bed and blocked her from my view.

I stumbled back, shock settling in. Ida gripped my hand and curled into my chest. I watched, almost dissociated, as Mama and Daddy kissed and held Poppy and said their goodbyes. White noise filled my ears as Mama and Daddy moved back and Rune approached the bed. I stayed, transfixed, Ida breaking down against my chest, Aunt DeeDee, Mama, and Daddy falling apart to the side of the room as Rune said something to Poppy, then leaned down and kissed her on her lips …

I held my breath as, seconds later, he slowly reared back. And I watchedit. I watched Rune’s face and saw in his shattered expression that she had gone. That Poppy had left us …

Rune’s head was shaking as my heart was impossibly, cracking even more. Then he bolted from the room, and as he did, I slammed back into the here and now with a deafening crash. The sound of agonized crying was the first thing that greeted me, the devastating noises slicing my soul in half. I looked at Mama, then Daddy. Mama had fallen to the floor, Daddy trying to keep her in his arms. Aunt DeeDee was turned against the wall that was propping her up, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Sav,” Ida cried, gripping tighter on to my waist. I held Ida close. Held her as I stared at the bed. Stared at Poppy’s hand. Her hand that lay unmoving on the bed. Herempty, still hand. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, like some camera trick used in the movies.

But this was real life. This wasourhouse. And that wasmybeloved sister on the bed. On the bed with no one beside her.

Mama reached for Ida. My little sister fell into our parents’ embrace, but I was moving forward like a magnet was drawing me close to Poppy. Like some invisible force, some transparent thread, was beckoning me to where she lay.

On a stuttered breath, I rounded the bed. And I stilled. I stilled as I stared down at Poppy. No breath came from her mouth. There was no rise of her chest, no flush to her cheeks. Yet, she was as beautiful in death as she was in life. Then my gaze dropped to her empty hand again. It was upturned, like it wanted to be held, just one last time.

So I sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped my hand in hers. And as I sat there, I felt something in me change. In that moment, I lost something in my soul that I knew I would never get back. I brought Poppy’s cooling fingers to my lips and pressed a kiss to her soft skin. Then I lowered our entwined hands to my lap. And I didn’t let go. Iwouldn’tlet go.

I wasn’t sure I ever could.

Lost Breaths and Moving Clouds

Savannah

Age seventeen

Blossom Grove, Georgia

THERE WERE PRECISELY FORTY-TWO CRACKS ON THE LINOLEUM FLOOR.Rob, the therapy leader, was talking, but all I heard was the tinny drone from the heating system whirring above us. My gaze was unfocused, catching only spears of daylight slicing through the high windows and the blurred outlines of the others in the circle around me.

“Savannah?” I blinked my eyes into focus, glancing up at Rob. He was smiling at me, body language open and an encouraging smile on his face. I shifted nervously on my seat. I wasn’t blessed with the skill of talking out loud. I struggled to put words to the turbulent feelings stirring inside me. I was better on my own. Being around people for too long drained me; too many of them made me close in on myself. I was nothing like my sister, Ida, whose personality was infectious and gregarious.

Just like Poppy …

I swallowed the instant lump that sprouted in my throat. It had been almost four years. Four long, excruciating years without her, and I still couldn’t think of her name or picture her pretty face without feeling my heart collapse on me like a mountain caving in. Without feeling theshadow of death’s unyielding fingers wrap around my lungs and starve them of air.

The knowing pangs of anxiety immediately began clawing their way up from the depths of where they slumbered. Sinking their teeth into my veins and sending their poison flooding through my body until it had captured me as its unwilling hostage.

My palms grew damp and my breathing became heavy. “Savannah.” Rob’s voice had changed; even though it echoed in my ears as everything around me tunneled into a narrow void, I heard its worried inflection. Feeling the weight of everyone’s stares on me, I jumped up from my seat and bolted for the door. My footsteps were an arrhythmic drumbeat as I followed the stream of light in the hallway toward the open air. I burst through the door to the outside and sucked in the wintery Georgia air.

Dancing spotlights invaded my vision, and I stumbled to the tree that sat in the grounds of the therapy center. I leaned on the heavy trunk, but my legs gave way and I dropped to the hard soil. I closed my eyes and laid my head against the wood, the rough bark scratching the back of my scalp. I focused on breathing, on trying to remember every lesson I had ever been taught about coping with an anxiety attack. But it never seemed to help. The attacks always held me hostage until they were finally willing to release me.

I was utterly exhausted.

My body trembled for what felt like an age, heart sputtering and lurching until I felt my lungs begin to loosen, my windpipe finally granting my body the oxygen it so badly craved. I inhaled through my nose and out through my mouth until I sagged farther into the tree, the smell of grass and earth breaking through anxiety’s sensory-blocking fog.

I opened my eyes and looked up at the bright blue sky, watched the white clouds traveling up ahead, trying to find shapes in their structures. I watched them appear, then leave, and wondered what it looked like from up there, what they saw when they looked down upon us all, loving and losing and falling apart.

A droplet of water landed on the back of my hand. I glanced down, only to catch another drop fall on my ring finger’s knuckle—they were coming from my cheeks. Exhaustion rippled over me, consuming all my strength. Icouldn’t even lift my hands to wipe away the tears. So I focused on watching the journeying clouds again, wishing I could be like them, constantly moving, never having time to stop to process and think.

Thinking gave me space to break.

I didn’t even realize someone had sat down beside me until I felt a subtle shift in the air around me. The clouds still held my attention.

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