Page 6 of Severance

“Sweetheart, you can’t work like this. Dad already called the restaurant and told them you’re taking a leave of absence.” She flips the coffeemaker lid open and pulls the dirty filter out.

A strange mix of annoyance and defeat rolls through my stomach. “What? Why?”

My mother tosses the old grounds into the trash can under the sink and shifts her attention to me. “Dad and I believe it’s best you take some time off.”

“What do you mean time off? Jess and I are moving in together on the first. I need the money for a deposit.”

She shakes her head. “You need to concentrate on your health right now. The apartment can wait.”

“No, it can’t!” Another tremor races through my body. “We signed a rental agreement.”

“Alana, you’re not moving anywhere until you get better.”

I feel acid boiling inside my chest. My parents have decided my life without asking me.

What else is new?

The silence stretches between us like rubber as I watch my mother hovering over the coffeemaker.

“Oh! Sweetheart.” She snaps her head to the side and gestures at the pile of mail sitting on the counter. “There’s a package for you.”

Pushing away my anger, I slip from the chair and cross the room.

“What is it?” my mother asks matter-of-factly as I carefully draw a padded envelope from the stack.

The paper feels crisp and fresh against my fingertips—I totally forgot about ordering it. “It’s just a book,” I mutter, pressing the package to my chest as if it’s some prized possession. In a way, it is. Because it came from the past. It came from the time when Dakota was still alive.

“That’s nice.” My mother’s voice hums as I settle in the chair and place the envelope in front of me.

* * *

I wake up in the middle of the night choking on my own saliva and panting. The book is next to me, still unopened. My pillow and sheets are wet, and I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been sweating or if something else happened. After the conversation with my mother, there’s a raw, bitter aftertaste of defeat in my aching mind. My heart beats fast and loud; my pulse is skyrocketing, and I can hear it thrashing in my temples.

Twenty-four people.

I shove away the damp blanket and prop myself against the headboard, my eyes darting around the dark room, searching for something familiar, searching for something to latch on to, but there’s nothing. Nothing except for the package I’m too scared to touch.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Stay down! Don’t move.

I can’t seem to catch my breath. There’s a scream stuck in my lungs and it desperately wants to come out.

She’s bleeding. Get a paramedic here.

How many fingers do you see?Can you hear me, sweetie?

I pull my legs up to my chest and rock my body, wanting to stop the noise from getting into my head.

Is anyone still inside? I’m looking for my brother.

Sweetie, I need you to let me see your hands.

Up until now, the memories of the aftermath have been only a shapeless blur. I’m not sure why it’s all coming back to me now, at four in the morning. I remember the police arriving and more gunshots. I remember the paramedics taking me outside. I remember sitting in the van while some woman in uniform is trying to talk to me, and I remember watching Mikah moving through the crowd outside the club. There’s blood dripping down his cheek, but I don’t think he’s hurt. I think the blood is mine. He stops one of the officers and asks him questions, and I can tell by how fast his hands move that he’s panicking. There’s a short exchange and then they’re gone.

Now I’m in the hospital, and my parents tell me Dakota was shot to death during the attack. That’s all I get. No details. They don’t tell me how many times he was shot or where he was standing when it happened or if it was an instant death or a slow one where he lay there, terrified, watching the horror around him.

I replay this moment in my head several times, wondering if I should have said or done something differently. Cried maybe. But I didn’t. I just sat there in silence, my hands and my face bleeding. I sat there waiting to wake up, waiting to snap back into my normal life. But it never happened.

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