Let’s talk, Archer! Let’s go through this together! I’m here!
I keep talking to him in my mind as I jerk the front door handle, but it’s locked, and I feverishly punch the code, squeeze through the opening door, and dart into the dim living room.
“Vienna” by Billy Joel is playing.
There is an eerie calmness in the room like the air was sucked out of it.
Archer sits on the floor with his head tilted back onto the couch, eyes closed.
“Arch?” I say softly, walking even softer like I’m going to wake him up.
He looks peaceful but doesn’t move.
Billy Joel’s piano tune trickles through the room, enveloping it into a happy lullaby.
A cigarette, burnt down to a stub with a tail of ash, is on the coffee table.
And—
A syringe on the floor…
The hair stands up on the back of my head. It’s a feeling, rather than the knowledge that something about this is horribly wrong.
“Archer!” I say louder.
Silence.
My hurried footsteps toward him are louder than the music.
I fall to my knees next to him and freeze in horror.
My heart slams in my chest. The silence around makes it worse.
Because when I bring my shaking fingers to his neck, the pulse is barely there.
Fading with every beat.
Leaving his beautiful body…
* * *