As It Was

Henry

An icy white haze surrounded me like snow, painfully bright and stubborn. My footsteps echoed against the pearly white flooring underneath me as I walked toward something I couldn't quite see just yet. It felt like I had been walking for hours, or even days. Time seemed to be nonexistent as I kept going and going, no end in sight. However, I couldn't get my legs to stop. They were moving on their own accord, bringing me to something that surely must've been a sight to see.

A cold snap of wind gusted around me, blowing through my hair and leaving my wispy bangs disheveled on my forehead. I brought a hand up to run through my locks, pulling it back down once the strands were out of my eyes. In the corner of my eye, something on my hand caught my attention. I brought my hand up to my face and felt a gasp escape my quickly tightening throat.

My palm was smeared in a crimson liquid, deep and starting to dry slightly. As I tried to blink the image away, it didn't disappear. The color seemed to only get more and more apparent; as if was mocking me. Before I could do anything more, a thick fog enveloped me, blocking the sight of my hand, my hearing, and only leaving me with touch and smell.

In less than a second, the haze dissipated. Less than a yard ahead was a scene that burned through my corneas and stained my brain. My feet started moving again, even though I begged someone- anyone, to stop it and let me get out of this never-ending loop.

I was getting closer and closer to a wreck.

A black car sat in the middle of the white abyss surrounding me. Skid-marks stained the pristine white ground, leaving a messy trail of loops and zigzags. The rear of the car was bashed in, smashed so horribly that one of the back doors were half off of its hinges. Smoke trailed eerily from the vehicle, the whole scene looking far too real to be just a figment of my imagination.

The closer I got to it, the more I could see in detail. It was then that I realized it wasn't just any car; it was Chandler's.

He'd gotten the car as a graduation gift from his parents. I'd spent countless summer nights in the passenger seat as we sailed through the city, finding something new to do each time. It was never boring, and every day was one I wouldn't want to spend any differently.

My breath caught in my throat as my legs finally ceased their relentless movement just a few feet away from the car. No sound resonated around me. All I could hear was my own breathing and the pounding of my heart in my ears as I became more and more anxious with every passing second. The air around me seemed to thicken with every breath I took as I glanced through the passenger side window to see inside of the car. I couldn't see much, as the airbag had obscured my field of vision.

I rounded the car slowly, swallowing thickly as I looked through the window on the driver's side. In a fleeting moment that felt a bit like an eternity, heart snapped, crumbling through my stomach and soaring to the floor with a shattering crack.

Inside of the car was Chandler.

His head was craned forward against the steering wheel, head turned toward me as he sat there completely unresponsive.

"Chan!" I screamed, pounding on the window as hard as I could.

Nothing.

I started to hyperventilate, my lungs burning and unable to fill me with enough fresh air. I grabbed the door's handle firmly and pulled to open it. It was locked. I yanked as hard as I could, banged and kicked the door over and over again until I was so weak that it hurt to even stand. I fell to my knees beside the window and stared through it dazedly. I knew that there was nothing I could do, and that knowledge made it all the worse.

Chandler's eyes were open, just staring blankly ahead of him, unmoving and numb. I lowered my head, feeling tears pour down my cheeks and cascade along my neck until they got lost in the fabric of my shirt.

I looked back up at him and flinched backward when his previously still, drained eyes re-adjusted just slightly; just enough to where he wasn't staring out the window blankly any longer- he was looking at me.

Blood poured from somewhere on his head, running down his forehead and over his cheeks. I whimpered as his neck was craned at an unnatural angle, snapping as he lifted it to look at me better.

"Chandler!" I screeched, scrambling to my feet, "Open the door! I'm here, please open the door!" I banged on the window, pleading to him. His usually soft, warm, intoxicating eyes that I adored remained cold, emotionless, and hazy as he stared at me through the glass.

The tears still plummeting from my eyes slightly obscured my vision, but I could see enough- and it was too much to handle.

He was broken- bleeding and bruised in so many places that I suddenly felt sicker than ever. My head began to spin as I could suddenly hear him perfectly; as if there was no glass separating us between.

"Henry," he started, a ghost of a smile on his blood-stained lips, "Do you see it? The blood on your hands?" I looked away from his face that was becoming more and more horrifying with every second and looked down at my hands.

Before, only my right hand had been dirtied by an unknown vermillion substance, but now both of my palms were drenched in warm, slick blood that dripped from my fingers and down onto the cold white floor at my feet.

I looked back at him in shock through the glass, gulping as the unfamiliar, terrifying grin spread even wider on his face.

"It's mine." His voice was chilling, sending goosebumps down my spine as he began to chuckle. It was quiet at first, but quickly grew into manic laughter, floating all around me and forcing its way into my mind even as I tried to cover my ears with tainted hands.

It didn't work. No matter how hard I tried to stop it, his voice drilled into my head, trapping me in a nightmare that I couldn't escape.

"No," I cried, sobbing as his laughter continued, "please, stop!" I couldn't hold up my weight any longer and fell onto all fours, lowering my head to the ground and covering my eyes.

My senses were in overdrive, the blood was wet against my face as the sharp metallic scent ghosted through my nose unwarranted.

"It's your fault, Henry." Chandler's laughter died down, his voice tired and raspy as he coughed and hacked before continuing, "If you would've been there, we would've gone a different way home. None of this would have happened. You should've been there with me."

I screamed, pounding my fists against the floor, begging it to all stop. I couldn't hear any more of it. It wasn't as if I hadn't already thought of it before, but hearing it directly from his scarlet-stained lips carved it into ever inch of by being.

My head spun faster and faster until everything diminished to a white blur with minuscule black spots dotting the corners of my vision.

I was fading, my body shutting down as I succumbed to the darkness pulling at me. As I slipped under completely, his words were the last thing I heard before everything turned black,

"It should've been you."

I shot up, feeling as though I'd crossed over to a different dimension and had finally returned. My chest heaved and my body shook like leaf as I tried my best to fill my lungs with air. My bedroom was completely dark save for the moonlight leaking in through my parted curtains on the opposite wall, assuring me that I was indeed somewhere else completely. I placed a cold hand on my chest while the persistent stuttering of my heart began to slow, finally letting my watering eyes fall shut in realization.

It was a dream.

The worst one I'd ever had, for that matter.

My tremoring hands moved to cover my eyes, supporting my head and giving me a place to hide in all at once. My lips quivered as a broken sob wracked through me, leaving me shaking and feeling worse than I thought possible.

I let his words sink in- everything that he'd said.

It made me wonder if he thought those things but just never said them to me. Why would he? Chandler cares about everyone and everything too much. He would never do or say anything to deliberately hurt me. That made it even worse; the fact that he probably was thinking those things all the time, but just bit his tongue because he doesn't want to make his pathetic best friend cry.

I swallowed back another sob and angrily wiped my cheeks, trying desperately to dry my shameful tears.

I took a deep breath and sniffed, my nose stuffy and most likely bright pink due to my breakdown. Turning my head to the left, I glanced at the clock on my bedside table through blurry eyes. It was only three, but I knew I wouldn't be getting any more sleep tonight; not after this.

I leaned over and clicked the lamp on, causing the room to light up with a soft, somewhat comforting glow. I leaned back against the headboard and folded my hands in my lap, my bottom half still enveloped in my warm duvet that suddenly felt a bit suffocating.

I let my eyes slip shut lightly and allowed my thoughts to rein free, pouring out in a messy heap and seeming to float around the room, becoming louder by the second. The more I thought about it, the more clear it became- and the worst part was that his words were entirely true. He had so much going for him; a well-paying job in advertising at a well-known company straight out of college, a plethora of friends, and so much potential to become anything he wanted and achieve whatever goals he set.

Me, on the other hand? I was nothing compared to him, inside and out. Where he excelled in every way, I was weak. The nightmare had been so daunting because it was everything I'd felt since the moment I received the call from Chandler's mother the night of the accident.

I should have been there with him; I could have changed the way the night ended.

If I didn't have the power to change fate- if I was too weak and powerless to achieve that much, at the very least, it should have been me.