Wrecked by H.P. Landry

caught my eye was the attic door opened with a dropped ladder and within the dark hole I saw a hand hanging from the ceiling.
    I have never felt so terrified in my life. The idea of losing Mylie had nearly driven me insane. I kicked the door until I broke it down. The only thought in my mind was that I needed to get to her. I called 911 as I rushed through the house and told them about the situation. I couldn’t pay attention to what the operator was saying, so I hung up.
    Each step through the house was agony because my feet felt like lead. It was as if I were walking to my execution. The hand that peeked out from the ceiling was delicate, and I gasped. I was horrified because it was definitely Mylie’s hand. I had wasted time, so much time, and only thoughts of the worst kind were plaguing my mind. I climbed the ladder and went into the attic. I felt my heart drop to the floor, and it shattered.
    It’s in those pivotal moments when there is no amount of denial that could ever prepare you to finally admit the truth. It is a truth that you’ve been trying to fight desperately not to believe. Even in my worst nightmares, I could never prepare myself to see Mylie on that floor. She lay on the aged wood floor with a journal clutched to her chest, and it felt like I was about to die. I snatched her up in my arms, falling to my knees completely defeated. She was cold, dusty, and not responding. I cried like I have never cried before because I realized that I loved her and was terrified of losing her. I pulled her towards my chest, cradling her in my arms and prayed.
    Please God! Don’t take her from me.
    That’s when I realized that she wasn’t breathing. I laid her down and began CPR, pressing my lips to hers as I blew air into her lungs. I saw her chest rise, and I proceeded with the compressions. I stopped after about a minute, and I saw that she was breathing on her own, but she still hadn’t opened her eyes. So, I picked her up again and started talking to her.
    “Please baby. Don’t leave me. I love you Mylie.” I sobbed with my face in the crook of her neck. In the distance I could hear sirens. Moments later I heard yelling from downstairs, the voice distinctly male. I realized that Nik had been alerted about the call.
    “MYLIE!”
    He pushed his way through the attic entry where I was still cradling her in my lap, too afraid to move her. She was pale and clammy, and I continuously checked her pulse. It was weak at best, and my heart was shattering into pieces at the idea of losing her before I even had her.
    “Get the fuck off my sister!” Nik pulled Mylie out of my arms. He was crying and sobbing uncontrollably, and I remembered that they only had each other as family. “What did you do?”
    “I didn’t do anything. I saw her hand, and I broke down the door, calling 911,” I pleaded my case to him, but he kept crying, not really listening.
    Everything else went by in a blur. The next thing I knew I was waiting with Nik and Mrs. Pierson at the hospital. The doctor spoke to Nik, after various tests the results returned inconclusive and collapsed. Mrs. Pierson held me and soothed my fears.
    Three days later, after various tests, we all still waited, but I couldn’t leave her even if I wanted to. What if I never got to tell her how I felt, that I loved her? Nik came up to me and shook my hand. I only caught the tail end of what he was saying.
    “… I can’t thank you enough Damien.” He had been a mess these past few days, a shell of the arrogant person I had met.
    “Of course, you’re welcome. I was glad I was there to help.” I looked at Mylie, and I caught her stare, but she looked away quickly. What did that mean?
    “Thank you Professor,” she said quietly.
    Are we still at that?
    “You’re welcome, Mylie.”
    “I’ll leave--, um, give you both a minute to talk,” Nik said, backing away towards the door. The tension was thick in the room, so I couldn’t blame Nik for leaving.
    “I wanted