Keith carried me into my apartment, the door was still open from earlier. He scanned the room for any further intruders before releasing me to hobble around as I pleased.
The room smelled of ash, burnt fabric and blood. The rain outside had stopped but water still trickled down the broken window and onto the smooth floor underneath. The fire in the living room had burnt down into fading embers.
As I looked around at the room and the damage caused I let out a little sigh. It looked worse than I remembered it and it had probably hurt more too. Good thing I have a bad memory.
"I'll be other there." I said gesturing vaguely to a hallway to my right.
"Okay." Keith said kneeling by the window and wiping fingerprints and blood from the walls and surfaces with a piece of navy cloth.
Holding my aching ribcage with one hand and using the other to support myself against the hallway walls I sidled towards my room.
I pushed open my bedroom door.
The amulets above it chimed like a bell as the door touched them.
Reaching up gingerly I removed the amulets from the nails and stowed them into my jacket pocket.
I labored over to my bed to retrieve my dreamcatcher. I climbed onto the soft mattress and grabbed the feathered amulet before collapsing exhaustedly on my welcoming bed.
"Oh kill me." I moan into my cold comforter. My entire body throbbing and prickling like a giant bruise of pain.
"Just kill me." I sighed looking up from the purple comforter to see no one standing in line to fulfill my request. I don't know if I felt relieved, disappointed or indifferent.
I spotted my phone resting on the bedside table; it was more for looks than anything else. It hadn't rung since three months ago and it hadn't successfully connected me with anyone for just as long.
I remember when technology was all the rage and some people thought we'd soon live in an electronic world. Life would be like being plugged into a gaming program and people would be able to cheat death. But now electronics were about as unless as, if not more than, glitter. In fact I missed the annoying craft room sprinkler more. Between the battle of heaven and hell with earth caught in the midst technology was obsolete.
I flipped my phone over on to its back in the hopes of maybe catching a glimpse of a signal in the darkened screen. But even if I did who would I call.
I pushed the power button. The screen fizzled to life a light orb on the screen announcing that I had received a message.
Feeling like a child at Christmas but a little trepidation I checked my voice mail.
The message had been received to my phone little over an hour ago but God knows when it had actually been recorded. How long it had been fighting its way through the pestering, sky-cluttering, spirits.
"Received at 2:30 AM from phone number..."
I gasped as the phone voice spat Titanic's caller code.
"Titanic, are you okay?" I whispered despite the fact that this was a recorded message and nothing I said could change anything.
The message started like your average pocket dial. And my hopes plummeted to the ground as my ears filled with the sound of white noise and friction.
Then a cough. The sound of something heavy being dragged across wood.
My heart skipped a beat.
The coughing subsided.
"Why the hell didn’t you tell me?" Titanic's voice sputtered.
Tell her what?
"Why didn't you tell me who you're parents were?!"
I flinched as a crazed yell broke the monotony of the static and a gunshot rang out twice. The line went dead.