HOPE
JESS
The bathroom floor was cold against my knees as I knelt there, clutching the toilet bowl, my whole body trembling as I emptied what little was left in my stomach. I felt hollow, both inside and out. It had been a week since Luke and Josh’s flight
disappeared, and every minute since had been a cocktail of terror, helplessness, and a strange, bitter hope that gnawed at the edges of my mind.
I rinsed my mouth, feeling the sting of acid on my tongue as splashed water on my face. The mirror’s glass was fogged from the humidity, obscuring my reflection–a small blessing. I didn’t want to see myself like this, barely holding it together. Laura was finally asleep in the other room, her breathing soft and shallow in the darkness, and I couldn’t bear to add my own despair to hers.
Every morning since we arrived in Jakarta, we’d sat at the edge of whatever seat or bed we could find, phones in hand, waiting for a notification. We clung to each tidbit of information, no matter how small: a few planes had landed on the surrounding islands, some with passengers shaken but alive. But each time we held our breath, waiting to hear news of a private jet–their jet–the hope fizzled out. Nothing had come in, and the days without answers were stretching so long they felt like a cruel dream.
I needed a cold shower to clear my head and rinse away the shadows clinging to me. As I stepped under the spray, the water
HOPE
felt like tiny needles on my skin, sharp enough to keep me tethered and pull me back from the edge. I tilted my head back, letting it run over my face, my neck, and down to my shoulders, each drop like a reminder of something solid, something real.
I closed my eyes, clasped my hands together, and like every other morning, I whispered a prayer. I didn’t care if it sounded desperate or foolish. “Please let them be okay. Please.” The words left me barely above a breath, but they felt like they cost everything I had.
As I stood there, I felt the tears start to prick at the corners of my eyes. The water mixed with them, carrying them away as fast as they fell. It was easier that way, letting the water mask what I couldn’t afford to show–not to Laura or myself. Because if I broke down now if both of us lost hope, then that was it. The end. We’d go home, and our lives would change forever, carrying this hollow ache with us, a black hole where our memories of them should have been.
I thought of Luke’s voice, the way he used to tease me until I cracked a smile, no matter how hard I tried not to. His smile, that half–smirk of his that always seemed to say, I know something you don’t. I could almost feel the warmth of his hand around mine, the strength in his grip when he pulled me out of whatever mess I’d managed to stumble into. I didn’t realize until now how much I’d depended on him, on his silent, stubborn presence. His absence was a gaping wound, a void that seemed to swallow me whole.
Josh, too–I could see his carefree grin, that dumb sense of humor that made everything feel lighter like the world was just some game, and he’d figured out how to play it. He was my twin, my other half, and even though Luke is my completion,
I knew she was barely holding on and counting on me to be the strong one, to keep that last thread of hope alive.
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