Chapter 18: shattered again

Abigail’s phone felt impossibly heavy in her hand. She had barely slept. Each night since Maya’s death, her dreams were broken—flashes of laughter, flashes of tragedy, looping over and over, until she woke with a heart pounding and tears drying on her cheeks.

The phone rang again. Her stomach twisted into knots before she even saw the name.

Zoe.

Her pulse spiked. Something cold and tight wrapped around her chest. She swallowed and answered.

“Abby…” Zoe’s voice cracked, trembling with barely contained panic. “It’s… Callie. Something happened. She…she’s gone.”

Abigail froze mid-breath, her eyes wide and unseeing. “Wha—what do you mean she’s gone?”

“She…she had an accident,” Zoe said, her voice shaking so badly that Abigail could hear her grip on the phone trembling. “I don’t know how it happened… someone called the police… it’s… she’s dead, Abby.”

Her knees gave way. She collapsed to the floor, clutching the phone as though she could pull Callie back through sheer force. Tears came instantly, burning hot, unrelenting. She pressed the phone to her chest.

“No! No, no, no! Not her… Not Callie! Please, not her!” she screamed, sobs ripping through her like a storm. “Why? Why? It’s not fair! I… I can’t…”

Her room felt impossibly quiet. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating her. Each object—the bed, the desk, the cracked mug from last Christmas—felt unbearably mundane, completely incapable of holding back the devastation. She could almost hear Callie’s laugh in her mind, see her teasing gestures, and now all that warmth had vanished.

Her breaths came in ragged, desperate gasps. She tried to stand, tried to make sense of the world, but her legs refused. She curled into herself, shaking, feeling utterly helpless.

A soft knock at the door startled her.

“Abby… it’s me,” James said, his voice calm, steady, almost unnervingly grounded. She flinched at first, then realized she was clinging to the phone like a lifeline and had ignored the world around her.

He stepped into the room without waiting for an invitation, kneeling beside her on the floor. He took her trembling hands in his and held them gently.

“I… I can’t,” she sobbed, burying her face against his chest. “Not her too… I can’t survive this.”

James wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she might shatter completely if left alone. “I know,” he murmured. “I know it hurts. I’m here. I’ll stay with you. Always.”

Her sobs became ragged, but in the warmth of his embrace, she felt a tiny sliver of relief. Not enough to erase the grief, but enough to keep her upright.

After a while, she whispered hoarsely, “I keep thinking… why them? Why keep taking them? Maya… Callie… it’s like the world… it’s punishing me.”

James stroked her hair softly. “Some things we can’t understand, Abby. But you’re not alone. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Her fingers gripped his shirt tightly, nails digging into the fabric, as if holding onto him could hold her entire world together. “I feel… I feel like I’m falling, James. Like… like I’m standing on broken glass and it’s cutting me from the inside out.”

“You’re not falling,” he said firmly. “I’m here. I’ve got you. Always.”

For a long moment, they just stayed like that. The room smelled faintly of rain outside and of James’ coat—warm and familiar. The city outside continued its life, indifferent, but inside the apartment, Abigail clung to the one constant she had left.

Her mind wandered, unwillingly. She remembered Callie’s laugh, loud and brash, teasing her mercilessly when she tried to act cool. She remembered Maya’s sarcastic notes and the way Zoe would sit quietly beside her in silence, letting her thoughts spill out without judgment. They were all gone, and she felt an ache deep in her chest, a hollow, echoing emptiness.

“I… I don’t want to lose anyone else,” she whispered finally, voice breaking. “I can’t… I can’t handle it.”

James pulled her tighter, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. “You won’t. Not while I’m here. I promise. I won’t let anyone else hurt you. Not ever.”

She clung to him, allowing herself to cry without restraint. Her body trembled from the force of her grief, but he never let go. Minutes passed—or maybe hours; she couldn’t tell. The outside world faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of them, suspended in a fragile, heartbreaking stillness.

Eventually, her sobs slowed to quiet sniffles. She lifted her head slightly, eyes red and puffy, and looked at him. “I don’t even know how to feel anymore… it’s like every piece of me is broken, James.”

He held her face gently between his hands. “Then I’ll help you put them back together,” he said. “Piece by piece, day by day. You don’t have to do this alone.”

She pressed closer, letting the comfort wash over her. And even though a small, persistent shadow of unease tickled the back of her mind—why had these accidents happened, why her friends—she pushed it away. For now, she would cling to him.

Because in this room, in his arms, there was warmth. There was safety. There was someone left who promised to stay.

And for the first time since the tragedies began, Abigail allowed herself to believe, just for a moment, that maybe—just maybe—she could survive this.